Luckily, the Hunter smelled of Fish: Bloodborne
by Quiyla
Summary: Fredricx, a foreigner to Yharham, lived in Victorian Era society before becoming a Hunter. He was a military veteran, who needed a new purpose.
1. Chapter 1

"Lunch break is over, boys," a small, tight-faced man shouted. He was dressed sharply, pristine given the fact that he was in a shipyard.

This Yharnam dock was full of ported steamboats and wind powered ships, clinging to more traditional ways. The steamboats poured out smoke, coloring everything around it dark. This was furthered by the factories near the water that also billowed angry black into the sullen sky.

The group of men let out chorus of grumbles.

Fredricx's eyebrows twitched, feeling a blood vessel throb in his forehead. Their too short lunch was over. Back to the task of loading and unloading these ships. He stood, hopelessly brushing dirt from his clothes.

He wore black trousers, which were coupled with suspenders, a dingy white collared shirt that was half unbuttoned, dulled leather shoes, and a hat that had seen better days.

"Halfway through, Fredricx," Lucas breathed as they started their task again. He was dressed similarly to Fredrix, but with cleaner shoes.

"Mr. August could make a stuffed bird laugh," Fredricx groaned as he picked up a crate from the ship's belly and began up the stairs to the top deck. "He treats us like the diseased. Even the war was better than this. Half of one shilling per day. How is a man supposed to feed his family?"

"You say that everyday," Lucas dismissed him, "It's better than working in a factory. At least, we get to work outside. Little risk to our fingers and limbs in those awful machines."

"Just our backs," Fredricx scoffed, "Those make our money."

"Mr. Vinge," August barked, "I am not paying for you to talk. You would hate to lose out on today's wages. Do you understand?" The man with the scrunched face continued in an obnoxious tone, so the ship could hear, "Or can a man of your breed not understand?"

"I understand, Mr. August," Fredricx hissed through his teeth, while attempting a neutral expression. His hard set jaw was obvious even with his full wiry beard. Anger turned his body against him, heart and breath quickening. "I understand, sir," he forced out again, clenching his teeth and words.

On June 14, 1858, Fredricxon Vinge was born in the British Colony of Claethorpes. It was comparable to Constantinople's case. Before, Claethorpes was an agrarian town, interacting peacefully with its neighbors. Claethorpes was governed by a band of elders until the British, toting guns and sickness, threatened the town into signing a binding agreement. Claethorpes was now under British rule in exchange for a small pouch of a strange currency, pounds. The elders had no idea what their new overseer's rule would entail. They promised protection, citizenship, and prosperity at the additional cost of soldiers, loyalty, and taxes. The British Queen desired pounds to be given to her as taxes. How was Claethorpes to tithe its pounds when they only had the contents of the small pouch? How could they know they were being treated honorably even when they were being assured by their overseers that they were being treated like royalty?

The Company demanded that other towns under British Colonial rule cease all communications with another. The thriving community became stagnant and isolated, taxes became heavy, and with the inability to produce more pounds to send, more soldiers were required to settle Claethorpes' debt to the Queen. Of course, Fredricx's father was selected, and by default, his family as well. They departed from Claethorpes and moved to Yharnam, which at the time, housed a fraction of the British Royal Navy. Fredricx's father became a sailor, a decently respected one.

*** 

The ashen sky had twisted into night. Everything was illuminated by the growing, yellow moon. Fredricx and Lucas were walking up the creaking dock. The ocean air was cold against their skin. It was later than usual, but they were still determined to collect their half a shilling. Mr. August had cheated Fredricx before, blaming it on his meticulous record keeping. The small office building was right before the streets of the city and doubled as a home for the shipmaster. The trek wasn't long, but with an aching back and ocean chill, it lasted ages.

Lucas pounded on the office door with his fist, inhaling sharply with a muffled cough, "Mr. August, we did what you asked, sir. We are here to collect our wages."

Fredricx scoffed internally, "Asked?"

The door swung open, revealing August in a long blue nightshirt and a cap on his head. "Very good, Lucas," he yawned. The door shut again, but not before they got a whiff of roasted beef. Within a couple of moments, August appeared again and dropped a couple of coins in Lucas's hands. The door began to shut.

"Mr. August," Lucas started, sliding his foot between the closing door and the frame. August scowled. "You didn't pay, Fredricx." Lucas pulled open the door forcefully, ripping the handle from August's hand.

He disappeared again, but this time, the door was left ajar. The roasted beef taunted them as their stomachs screamed almost in unison. Within long moments, August appeared and dropped one single coin in the hand of Fredricx. It was half of a shilling.

"Thank you, sir," Lucas smiled, showing crooked teeth, and he released the door, which was promptly snatched closed by the small man. Fredricx clutched the coin, body heating. "That man is always disrespecting me," he muttered to Lucas as they entered into the streets of Yharnam.

Feverently, he inhaled the night air. It was crisp, fishy, and smelled of blood. "Thanks, Lucas," Fredricx gave a small smile at the corners of his mouth.

"No problem," the other man replied as they walked. They both lived across town in Central Yharham. The streets were paved with bricks as were the houses and stores. Wrought iron fences lined pathways and fronted homes. Homes had barred or chained windows. It was night at Yharnam, which meant thick, hungry tension.

They walked mostly in silence. Fredricx's steps were becoming laboursome as every couple of paces, he would be reminded of his muscles twisting around in his lower back, which he tried to rub with his hands to no relief.

With some time, they climbed a set of stairs and passed a well. The door adjacent would lead Fredricx to his apartment. "Goodnight," he said to Lucas as they clasped hands and turned to the entry way.

"Wait, Fredricx." There was no hesitation as Lucas spoke and outstretched a closed fist, "This is the extra that Mr. August gave me. It's just a couple of pence. I want you to have it."

"I can't take that."

"I don't have anyone else to feed. You have a wife," Lucas offered the small coins again with a nod.

Fredricx sighed, but accepted them. "Thank you." They locked eyes, and Lucas walked away, leaving Fredricx to go inside.

"One more set of stairs," he muttered to himself as he ascended. He found a smile as he saw the familiar door.

It opened before he could reach the handle. "There you are, cobblestone feet," a woman taunted, holding it open so Fredricx could enter.

They hugged, Fredrix gripping her tightly against his torso. "Sorry, I am late. August wanted me and Lucas to do some extra work."

Ettie's head shook with fury. Her brown curls bounced with the motion. "He didn't pay you extra, did he? That man and his horrible attitude. I wish I could rip off that quirky mustache from his narrow face."

Fredricx gratefully sat down. "August didn't pay me extra, but paid Lucas a little more. Lucas gave it to me." He handed the coins to Ettie.

"How could you accept this?" she questioned, placing the coins in a tucked away jar, which held a few pence.

He pulled off his leather shoes, sighing in relief. "He insisted I take them." Fredricx willed himself not to look at the jar again, tucked between a bag of flour and cornmeal. However, he was unsuccessful. Stress bubbled as he stared at the jar. Even though it was only slightly revealed, it was obvious that it was less than a quarter full. Rent would be due soon.

Ettie suddenly appeared in his line of vision. "Stop it," she said softly, hands going from her hips to hold his hands. "It's fine. I am working tomorrow at the Jenkins' household. They pay me well."

From his sitting position, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled Ettie toward him. The side of his head was pressed into her stomach. "I just want to take care of you."

She rubbed his scalp, brushing aside his slightly longer than shoulder length hair. "Let's eat, Fredricx. I know you are hungry."

They embraced for a long moment. He inhaled her floral scent. It smelled like the detergents she used while cleaning the clothes of the rich.

Fredricx brought her in closer before letting go. Silently, he stood and made his way over to their cluttered table. Folded clothes that didn't belong to either of them consumed their kitchen. Ettie sat down in a mismatched chair and handed Fredricx a plate of bread, potatoes, and a single scrambled egg.

"Looks good, Ettie," he smiled before wolfing down his food. "Your bread is the best part," he finally smiled, using a tarnished knife slather butter on to the chunk of bread.

Fredricx, finishing off the last of his meal, remained sitting as Ettie was eating. She was graceful even in the middle of their cramped, stressed apartment. "How was your day? I didn't see you this morning," he asked her, leaning back in his chair and using his hands to support his head.

She swallowed her mouthful, "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to get up and head over to the Ghirah Manor early. Their children are so mischievous." She smiled, spreading her happy lips. "I caught them sneaking sweets from the cook. They told me that if I didn't tattle on them, then they would give me a cookie from their loot." From her apron pocket, she produced a small parcel. Unwrapping it skillfully, she pulled out a tan cookie, broke it in half, and gave one half to Fredricx.

"I hope you don't get in trouble by those children," he said through a mouthful of the sweet. It was exactly that, sweet.

Sugar was expensive, beyond a luxury for the working class. Their wedding anniversary when he was in the army several years ago was the last time that Fredricx had something so sweet.

"Thank you." His eyes were closed as he chewed the last of the cookie. With a deep exhale, he stood. "I'm going to bed, Ettie. My back is killing me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After the Vinge family relocated to Yharnam, Fredricx's father entered the British Royal Navy. Training was extensive. He would be gone for all of the day and most of the night. Well after Fredricx was asleep, his father would return. When they did interact, his father was tired, made obvious by the new lines on his face. After months of this, Fredricx's father was sent to the sea.

The rest of his family remained, his wife and Fredricx. Although the money sent to them was enough to live on, Fredricx's mother still worked. She spent long hours as a nanny for a wealthy family. However, she wasn't the only one. There was another woman, who birthed Lucas Barrett.

Lucas and Fredricxon, despite their dramatically dissimilar pasts, became friends. There were many warm days that they spent running the streets, stirring up trouble for their mothers. There were many cold days that Lucas and Fredricx spent hiding in warmer buildings that didn't welcome them, snatching up unused coal from fireplaces.

As they grew, Fredricx did faster. He was naturally more muscular and coordinated. The only thing that Fredricx lacked in was eyesight, which was bettered by glasses as an adolescent. They not only improved his vision, but the way others viewed him. He was suddenly viewed as more intelligent and classy. With the help of Lucas's smooth talk, which was his strong suit, they landed themselves jobs as dishwashers at the local tavern. They weren't paid much. They each made two pence per day, which Fredricx attempted to save.

Unfortunately, the tavern was also the place that adolescent Fredricx and Lucas were introduced to alcohol. It started as a joke between some patrons and the owner, a gamble. Lucas came out on top, winning a quarter of a shilling, which was a handsome sum of money to them. Fredricx wasn't so lucky, but became determined to outdo his friend.

Although they became fond of alcohol, they had not been introduced to blood ministration, which was far more addictive. It infected the city, causing highs of strength, courage, bravery, and vigor. The lows were devastating, full of intense disorientation, feelings of hopelessness and weakness, and physical inability to carry out normal tasks. Even better, there were no middles.

The Healing Church replaced hospitals. People with physical ailments would visit the Church to receive the Old Blood. It worked for a while, restoring families and curing impossible diseases. This Blood became tainted. With what, the white wearing Church doctors were not sure. Was it actually tainted at all? Surely, their meticulous upkeep of the supply couldn't have been ruined. This supply came from their nuns, who were solely selected on the quality of their blood and the diameter of their blood vessels. Religious devotion was secondary. These women were not allowed to leave the Church. In rare moments, they could be spotted standing on balconies of the upper level of the cathedral church, looking exhausted.

Aware of side effects, the doctors continued to infuse this Blood into unsuspecting patients. Side effects went well beyond the feelings of euphoria and depression. Death within a few minutes upon initial injection wasn't uncommon. Those people had bad blood, according to the white hooded doctors. If the person didn't have bad blood, then that patient's disease might disappear permanently or until the blood ministration wore off. Now dependent on the Healing Church, they went into debt for treatment. One infusion would cost a quarter of a year's wages for the working class. There were cheaper alternatives, but these were far more dangerous and excruciating. These imitations were sold by a darker force of Yharham and came with worse illnesses at little benefit.

With the power that came with blood ministration, political leaders, scientists, inventors, the wealthy, and other people of money and influence became habitual patrons. All of a sudden, businesses and Yharnam boomed. It was an explosion of growth, economic bliss, and expansion. The side effects were unfortunate, yes, but new leaders would come into effect to replace old. These new leaders would continue the expansion. Long before the Vinge family arrived at Yharnam, it was the wealthiest and largest of all of the cities in Europe. However, it was also the sickest.

Sitting up slowly, Fredricx's feet thumped the hardwood floor of his small apartment. Ettie was already gone for the day as per the usual. Letting out a hard yawn, he rubbed his face with his hands and stood.

"You don't have much time," he muttered to himself, changing clothes. The shipyard smell was permeant on his clothes. Every piece of his clothes reeked of sweat, smoke, and fish.

With their bed roughly five feet from the kitchen table, it was an easy transition. Ettie had made breakfast before she left, leaving a plate of cooled food on the table for him. The chipped plate held a piece of bread with tart jam, two scrambled eggs, and half of an apple that had completed browned on the side it was cut.

As he ate, Fredricx surveyed their apartment. It was essentially one room. When he would walk in, Fredricx was immediately in their kitchen. Lining that same wall as the door, there was all of their counter space. Shelves held a couple of pots and pans, four simple white plates, bowls of different kinds, and a couple of cups. The worstly cracked cup held all of the silverware they owned. Their set had been a wedding gift from the wealthy woman that his mother was a nanny for her children. It was once complete as they would entertain guests in London. However, since he left the Service, they would pawn off the silver for food. There was no reason to have silverware if it couldn't be used for its intended purpose.

The kitchen was finished with a four person brown oak table and two chairs. One was the same oak, and the other was white.

Across from the kitchen were two more chairs. They were both cushioned and upholstered with large arms. The dark green one was the only chair they had that Fredricx felt like he fit comfortably in.

On a shelf, they had a deck that had always missed some its cards, a clock, and a purple-tinted glass vase. This was Ettie's prized possession. Before they lived here, she kept it on the table, showing off live flowers. Now, with the table piled with strangers' clothes, there was no room. It wasn't worth the risk of it breaking. Fredricx didn't dare to touch or move it because his vision wasn't as it was.

On one of his first couple of days at the shipyard, he was confronted by a group, who didn't think his breed should have the European person's privilege of glasses. In an instant, they were taken and broken into small pieces. Fredricx's glasses were no more, and with no money to replace them, he went without. This wasn't a problem for working in the shipyard, however. His back was the only part of him that mattered.

Also, there was a single window that the cushioned chairs faced. The window was boarded up with wood. It wasn't worth the risk during the nights of the hunt.

The rest of their apartment was a bed and two sideways turned, connected crates that held their clothes. Their bed had two pillows, deflated of their feathers. It also housed a white sheet and a blanket with holes where toes would go in the winter. Ettie had made it, but didn't have the time or energy to upkeep it.

Glancing up at the clock, he stood, snatching up that half of an apple. He would visit the bathhouse on his way to the shipyard and wait on Lucas there. While they walked to the docks, he would eat the rest of his breakfast.

"Good morning," Lucas coughed out as he spotted Fredricx.

"Let's go," Fredricx replied, waving him over with his half eaten half of an apple.

As they approached the docks, the mist grew heavier. Although mist and fog were normal, especially in the early mornings before the sun had truly woken up yet, that feeling had returned. The Scourge would happen tonight, but nothing to do about it until then except make his half a shilling.

At the shipyard, it was the day Fredricx dreaded the most. It was the least desirable job at the shipyard, and Fredricx was lucky to be one of the ones to have it. However, it wasn't as physically taxing as other tasks. He, Lucas, and a some other men would unload a Yharnam's Crisp Fish boat.

The group of men milled around on the dock. They were waiting for the boat to do so. Then, like clockwork, they would take all of the sometimes live fish from the boat and load them to be taken to market. It took most of the day with a disconjointed lunch in the middle.

Fortunately, everyone could feel the upcoming Scourge. August would let them leave well before the sunset. It was probably so he could protect himself more than that he cared about his shiphands. There had been a couple of times that Ettie got stuck at whatever uppity manor she was working. He questioned her safety as he wasn't there to be sure of it, but in reality, she was probably safer. The wealthy could afford enough costly incense to last the night. The working class relied on cooperation and luck to last.

As predicted, August paid them all without a complaint and let them leave while the sun was still high in the sky. Lucas pulled out his pocket watch as they started their trek across Yharnam, "It's only 4:08. Even earlier than last time, Fredricx."

"I wouldn't be getting excited," he snipped, shaking his head furiously. He turned over the half of a shilling over and over into his hands. The town had changed. It wasn't peaceful, but was bustling.

Most vendors were hastily packing up their merchandise from the market. They spotted the fish they had unloaded earlier. It would likely all rot, food for the beasts. Women and children were already tucked inside, waiting for their protectors to return. Those without, relied on the incense, which did little during an encounter with a beast, who carried their own weapons.

Luckily, all of the time spent in Yharnam, he had never had a close one. Thousands before were not as lucky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

New additions to the marketplace and the only vendors who would stay out as long as able were men selling incense. A shilling would buy one night's worth at this time. The price multiplied with each hour, and people would pay the price. Fredricx and Lucas would as was customary.

Fredricx handed his half of a shilling to Lucas as not all of the vendors would sell at the same price for him. Lucas's smooth tongue and hazy reputation came in handy. Fredricx waited a few yards away as Lucas used his silver tongue. Within a few moments, he reappeared with a lantern and a handful of pence. Small speckles of blood dotted the lantern. Fredricx didn't bother to inquiry as they split the pence.

"Let's go," Lucas urged, "I know Ettie will be waiting impatiently."

As the continued down the streets of Yharnam, the mood was shifting before them. Townsfolk were angry, calling out to passerbys. This part of town was customarily more prone to rioting so early into the night.

"You will be a beast." they shouted, pointing fingers and weapons.

"I'm no beast!" another cried, letting out a cough. "I may be sick, but I didn't take no blood."

"That's what they all say, and then they become monsters," one of the original sneered. "Let's lock him up."

The crowd cheered. They paid no mind to Fredricx and Lucas as they snuck behind. The two men saw as the accused was thrown into a metal coffin. It would be chained shut.

In the morning, they would be opened, and humans would be freed. The dead would be buried. The beasts would be burned. It was expected. Animals were not immune from the mob treatment. Dogs and other pets were locked in outdoor cages to wait out the night.

XXXX

Besides the mobs of townsfolk, who would soon retreat to their homes for safety, there were men and women in black. They brandished shiny weapons, one in each hand, often a gun and something cruder. These were Hunters.

Hunters were a special league of killer. They only appeared when the hunt was expected. They would disappear at day break. Their mission was to kill beasts. They were to kill as many as there were.

Hunters were both celebrated and feared. Sane hunters were helpful, destroying beasts to make Yharnam safe again. Corrupted hunters would kill humans as if any human could potentially become a beast.

They passed a hunter, who nodded to them after eyeing Fredricx. His face was covered by a mask, leaving only his eyes exposed. The hat on his head was a tricorn. The rest of his clothes were spotted in old blood. He carried a small silver pistol and a sword of a kind. A larger weapon, like an oversized hammer, rested, strapped against his back.

Fredricx had never seen a hunter in action. He and Ettie were always locked away, hoping to be left alone by hunters and beasts. It wasn't uncommon for hunters to knock on doors. Helpful ones provided information or even safe passage if incense was low. Less helpful hunters would break down doors, slaying humans. Hunters were necessary in dealing with beasts, but could not be trusted.

"What do you think it's like to be a hunter?" Fredricx asked, nearing his apartment.

"Dangerous," Lucas coughed. It was a dangerous night to do just that.

XXXX

"Hurry," Ettie whined, standing in the doorway of their building. Incense was already burning at this first door, provided by the landlord, which was the only good thing he did for his tenants. This was likely because dead tenants could not pay rent.

Time was passing. Ettie wanted to rush to the bathhouse before they locked themselves in for the night. He was in agreement with her logic. "I want to piss in peace."

"It's 5:02, Fredricx," Lucas kept the time. "Let's leave quickly."

They did so immediately. Their walking had turned into a light hustle. Fredricx paced behind Ettie, looking for trouble.

They passed more frantic townsfolk, preparing for the night. Newcomers were particularly obvious. They were already shut tight. The locals knew there wasn't much danger until the moon was high in the sky.

There were mobs of people, throwing loners into coffins. Even in their group of three, they were safe from this sort of preventative treatment. This had actually happened to Fredricx once before as a child. A head cold earned him a night. It was incredibly frightening, hearing beasts and hunters scuttle around him. Young Fredricx remained completely still and silent that Scourge. However, his mother had to have been even more frightened.

The bathhouse was full of people. As one entered the open gates, it split into a side for men and women. Ettie went right, and Lucas left. When Lucas was finished, Fredricx would enter the bathhouse. Keeping Ettie safe came before all else.

Fredricx watched people scuttle in and out. They went in covered in soot, ash, oil, or whatever substance from their workday. Some smelled of machines. Fredricx, luckily, smelled of fish.

Lucas emerged after several minutes. His tan hair was damp, and he reappeared twisting his fingernail around in his ear. "Your bath awaits, Master Vinge," Lucas teased, the bags under his eyes lightening for a moment.

He shook his head. "Take Ettie back to the apartment if she gets done before me."

"Yes, sir." There was that mocking tone again, followed by uneasy laughter. Lucas would try to deal with anxiety in this way by making jokes. The Scourge wasn't anything to laugh about. After doors were locked, beasts and hunters would come out. Blood would cover the streets. Corpses would be as commonplace as street rats. The street rats would feast.

This public bathhouse wasn't anything spectacular. As the genders entered their respective sides, there were changing rooms, toilets in a liberal sense, and troughs of slowly moving water. Quickly, Fredricx made use off all of these features. At the trough, he undid the strip of cloth holding his hair and shook it out. Rudy orange and slightly curly, it went past his shoulders. Plunging his hands into the trough, he poured water on his face and beard. He used the next handful to soak his hair. Pulling a more than half used bar of soap out from his pocket, he lathered and scrubbed his whole skull. This included the base of his neck and all of his hair. With additional fistfuls of water, he rinsed.

Quickly, he exited, squeeging water from his skin and ringing out his hair onto the walkway. He spotted Lucas as he rounded the corner.

"Something smells fishy to me," there was more uneasy laughter and a fit of coughing.

Fredricx head shook, "Time?"

"5:45."

Given the tall ominous buildings of Yharnam, the streets were already darkening. The sun was barely setting, but the houses, shops, and factories casted long shadows that gave a false perception of night. Beasts and hunters didn't care about time of day. The moon was somehow involved in the timeline. However, there was something about the dark that brought them on, and they would stay until only Hunters remained.

XXXX

Within a few moments, Ettie appeared, running her fingers through wet hair. It wasn't without it's knots as her face would twist as her nails encountered them. "I'm ready," she announced.

It was 6:08 when they were back inside Fredricx and Ettie's apartment. Ettie used a match to light incense and placed one on their doorstep. Fredricx lit another and placed it on the windowsill of their single window. It was still boarded up. Thankfully, no one tried to mess with it in the typical desperate search for supplies for others' own safety. With the incense placed, the door was locked. It clicked shut. It wouldn't be opened until likely morning.

Fredricx and Lucas picked up and placed the kitchen table in front of the door. This would hopefully provide an extra barrier against the beasts and hunters. Lucas grabbed one of the mismatched chairs and pulled it into their living space and sat. Ettie nestled into her upholstered seat with their quit pulled up around her body. Fredricx sat in his chair after fetching a military issued gun from underneath their bed. It was rumored that regular bullets did little against beasts, but it was better than nothing.

Now, they would wait, wait until the Scourge was over, and wait until morning would come. Thankfully, morning would come eventually.

XXXX

The noises started earlier than expected. Groaning, growling, screeching, screaming, panting, and grunting were audible from the chaos. The beasts would die at the weapons of the hunters. Hunters would die at the weapons or limbs of beasts. The hunters' weapons could be heard above all of the vulgar noises, bullets leaving chambers and weapons clinking, rattling, and shuffling.

Although he had spent a decent portion of his life in Yharham, Fredricx knew little of the hunters. They killed beasts, which drove some to kill other hunters and regular people. They were a sort of medicine to Yharham's sickness, which was brought on by actual sickness.

Eventually, they ate leftover bread, slathered with jam, scrambled eggs, and boiled carrots. Ettie and Lucas chattered uneasily about trivial topics including the weather, her job, the various manor owners, neighbors, and Fredricx's scowl. They attempted to entice Fredricx into conversation, but the outside sounds were too distracting.

The noises didn't stop. In fact, they intensified as the night went on. Beasts and hunters fought viciously. Although nothing could be seen of the war from where they were, the gun firing and weapon slashing was obvious. Death was obvious.

The Hunters would eventually prevail as they always did. No one was entirely sure how. However, it was no less frightening as Yharhamites died. They were always lost in many ways.

Eventually, Ettie nodded off in her chair, blanket pulled up over her chin. She was scrunched with her knees to her chest, neck tilted sideways. Her neck would ache in the morning, but it was better than no sleep at all.

Lucas's eyes were half closed. He was drifting off as well. Fredricx wouldn't sleep. He never did. The moaning and groaning were relentless, and he couldn't quite block it out.

Just as all was still in their apartment, Lucas shot up in a fit of coughing. It came from within deep his lungs. It was the kind of coughing that made one's abdominal muscles ache.

He gave Fredricx a deadpan look. "I think it's getting worse." Lucas inhaled sharply, dapping nasal mucus with his sleeve.

Fredricx nodded. "What did the doctor say?" he responded, scratching a spot on his greasy hair. It obviously wasn't washed well.

"Whooping cough."

He let out a sigh. "What can be done?"

Lucas shook his head, "I can go to the Healing Church for blood ministration."

"Will you?"

"Nothing worse than to be a beast."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Note: Consider leaving a review of your thoughts, especially of what you think of Fredricx's and Lucas's personalities, how I am portraying life in Yharham, and how I am portraying life in the Victorian Era. Also, would you like to see me write through the game's story or make up my own path for Fredricx in the Bloodborne world?**

 **XXXX**

Chapter 4

Night seemed unnaturally long. Seconds did not become minutes in increments of sixty. Minutes did not become hours in increments of sixty. It seemed far slower, but the clock knew no better. Ettie and Lucas were still asleep in their respective chairs. Fredricx remained quietly. At one point, he fetched a slice of bread from the countertop. Aside from that, he just listened, straining to hear what was going on outside.

"Get out of the way!" There was a shout from outside. It was followed by the scream of a beast and the clang of a weapon.

"This way," another called. Their footsteps petered off into the distance.

Within time, there was a knock on the door. Fredricx could smell a hunter. Their smell went beyond sweat and fresh blood. There was something fundamentally wrong with it. Hunters smelled of something sour, but alluringly repulsive. "Could you spare a hunter a vial of blood?" the voice asked, "I'm running low, doing this service to Yharham." There was a chuckle and uneasy clanking of weapons.

"None here," Fredricx responded flatly. He glanced backwards, and Ettie was now awake, giving him a confused, frightened stare.

"I just need one," the hunter continued. "I'm trying to save the city."

"None. I don't have any."

At once, fists came crashing down on the door. The table, in front of the door, shook a little. Ettie let out a sizeable whimper as if she had been struck instead of the door. Fredricx snatched up his gun. He waited.

Eventually, the hunter backed away from the door and proceeded to bother their other neighbors, making the same demands. Most were smart enough not to open doors during the hunt. Not all hunters were friendly. Some were aggressive toward anything that had breath, beast or not.

"I'm scared," Ettie whispered, opening her arms to Fredricx, who sat the weapon down on the table.

"I know," he soothed, embracing her tightly, "The Scourge will be over soon. The morning will come. We will stay safe."

There was no going back to sleep for her now. For the rest of the night, Fredricx held Ettie as she gripped him, tensing at other noises.

"The morning will come," she would repeat to him.

XXXX

Eventually, it did. The table was moved from in front of the door and resumed its primary position. The incense was dampened and brought inside to prevent thieves from snatching it up for themselves.

Next, breakfast, of more scrambled eggs, was eaten. They visited the bathhouse, and Fredricx and Lucas walked Ettie to the gate of the manor she was working at today.

Yharham was not a beautiful site. As predicted, blood filled in cracks between the stones in the street. Many of the corpses had already been disposed of as there was a large crew who would get rid of them before many of the townspeople emerged from their homes.

However, the stench still clung in the air, invading the lungs of those who bothered to inhale. It was sour, metallic, and reeked of blood. In the distance, smoke could be seen and smelled. Fire would cleanse the streets. It killed what was left of the Baffling Sickness, one of the many ways people could be transformed into beasts on a night of the Scourge.

The shipyard was disastrous. Fredricx and Lucas tied plain cloth around their heads to cover the nose and mouth. Many of the other shiphands were waiting. Most were accounted for. There was a sort of false pity for those who were not present.

The group waited on orders from August even though orders were clear. They were always the same after a Scourge.

Fredricx, like many others, sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over. The tide was low, but the salt air was better smelling than the abrasive blood and fire.

In the hour, August appeared. He was dressed crisply, suit and tie. He had a fancy mask over his face that had goggles built into it for vision. The wealthy afforded lavish Scourge gear. It was a sort of fashion trend with some usefulness. "I see most of you survived," he commented nonchalantly. August clasped his hands, "Okay, time to clean these decks. Warren and Joel, go get the buckets and sponges." They were handed a silver key. "Fredricx, I'm going to need to meet with you after the day is up. Hope that isn't an issue."

"No, sir," Fredricx answered. There was an internal eyeroll.

They spent the rest of the day scrubbing the docks. It was exhausting. The soap was bitter against the skin. The splinters treated hands no better. These annoyances were nothing compared to the back pain from being haunched over for hours on end.

Lunch break was an enjoyed reprieve, especially since a local religious organization, that was essentially non-existent in comparison to the glory of the healing church, fed all of the shipyard hands. They did this on occasion as a way to pollster their popularity among possible converts. That part didn't matter to Fredricx, but he was still grateful for a meal that didn't contain scrambled eggs. The soup was watery, but contained small chunks of sausage, carrots, potatoes, and celery.

Fredricx brought the bowl to his lips, slurping the rest of the broth. Finishing it off, he swiped the back of his hands across his mouth and beard. Glancing over to Lucas, who sat a few feet away, but far closer than everyone else, Fredricx asked, "Why aren't you eating?"

There was a long cough, followed by a sharp inhale with mucus being swallowed. "I am just not hungry."

"Okay."

They sat for a couple of moments quietly. Their fellow workers discussed the Scourge, who was gladly alive, sadly alive, gladly dead, and sadly dead.

XXXX

"Lunch is over," August announced over the chattering of the other shiphands. The gossip from the Scourge was too rich to pass up for most. It was too enticing to find out who had been taking blood ministration when they said they were not. Who had become a beast? Why did they? Were predictions correct? Who won the gamble?

Fredricx stood slowly, and using his hands to support his lower back, he stretched. His fingers still felt tingly from the stringent soap. Fredricx use to grumble about Ettie's complaints of her hands and fingers because of this same soap she used to launder the clothes of the more fortunate. Now having to use it himself on the occasion, he did not dare to complain any longer. It left the skin of the fingers feeling raw and broken. Bleeding was not uncommon for those less accustomed to it. In fact, many of the shiphands, including himself, would likely arrive the next day with bandages around the knuckles.

"Didn't you, boys, hear me?" August demanded, his rat-like face twisting and turning a shade of red. "Get back to work."

There was a mumble among many, "Yes, sir."

"I'm tired of being disrespected, Lucas," Fredricx grunted to his friend, who was attempting to soothe his aching hands with what was left of the water he had been drinking. "We work all day with no respect. What is a man without respect to his name?"

"You say that everyday, Fredricx," Lucas breathed out. "It's better than working in a shut up factory."

The blood vessels in his forehead throbbed, starting to cause a splintering headache in addition to actual splinters, raw hands, and an aching back. Fredricx massaged his temples to relieve some of the pressure. "I wish I could be a soldier again. I was respected."

"Right now, you are a shiphand, Fredricx," Lucas replied, "We both are."

With that, they went back to scrubbing under August's evil eyes. Eventually, the scrubbing and rinsing of the docks became monotonous. It was like clockwork, and like a clock, little thinking was required. It didn't seem long before that they were finished and being paid by August, who must have been feeling a little less selfish than normal because he was smiling as he paid each of them. Lucas and Fredricx were last in line because then, it would be easiest to speak with August afterwards as he had previously requested.

"Mr. Lucas," August said, while handing over a half of a shilling into the palm of Fredricx's friend.

"Thank you, sir," Lucas pocketed the coin and started to the street. Fredricx knew he would wait for him there.

"Mr. Fredricx," August started, fishing around in a red velvet bag. Coins rattled around inside. August produced two whole shillings and a couple of pence and handed it to the surprised, but wary Fredricx. "Mr. Vinge," he started again matter of factly, "The Scourges have brought economic hardships on many businesses in Yharham, including this one. Ships are not docking. I have lost many high end clients. They fear damage to their products and reputation by doing business in Yharham. Because of these losses, I am having to displace some of the shiphands." There was a pause. "Mr. Vinge, I am sorry to inform you that your services can no longer be afforded. I would be willing to provide a good reference for you as you choose to seek other employment."

XXXX


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"What?" Fredricx retorted. "You're displacing me?" His blood shot cold with sorrow, but quickly became like fire. The blood vessels in his forehead throbbed violently once again.

"I'm sorry, Fredricx."

"Why?" Fredricx demanded loudly. He had always tried to be respectful to August, but that faded.

The small, rat-like man shook his head, zipping up the velvet bag.

Fredricx's fists clenched together. The tendons were pulled so tight that Fredricx thought they might actually snap. "I work hard for you everyday. I don't complain. I do what you ask of me even if I disagree with it."

"It is the Scourge, Fredricx. I can't afford to pay your wages anymore. I will provide you with a good reference of character and labor."

Inhaling sharply, Fredricx swiveled away from the docks and into the streets of Yharham.

XXXX

Fredricx flew past Lucas, who was leaned against a side of a small building.

"What happened?" Lucas called, hustling and coughing after Fredricx.

His jaw was clenched tight, causing his teeth to ache, "He displaced me."

"What?"

"August displaced me."

"Why?" Lucas's eyes were wide as he continued swiftly after Fredricx.

Finally coming to a dead stop, Fredricx shook his head vigorously. Breathing quickly, he shot out, "He can't afford to pay my wages." His heart pounded furiously against his bones, blood coursing and filling his body with red anger.

"I'm sorry, Fredricx."

They walked silently. What was Fredricx to tell Ettie? What sort of job could he find quickly enough to pay their rent? What sort of job could he find at all? How would Ettie respond? What would they do?

"How am I supposed to tell Ettie?"

"Just tell her what happened."

"I don't think I can tell her."

It wasn't long before they reached Fredricx's apartment building. The streets were eerily silent. Fredricx felt dread fill his body from head to toe. His fingers curled and uncurled nervously. What words were there for Ettie?

"I'm sorry, Fredricx," Lucas started, coughed, and started again, "Let me know what I can do for you and Ettie. Here." Lucas handed Fredricx his half of a shilling, "Here, I don't need it as much as you do."

"I can't accept this," Fredricx shook his head, opening the door to their apartment. He could see Ettie inside, and his heart sank.

Lucas, at once, pushed his way past Fredricx and into their apartment. He greeted Ettie, grabbed their small coin jar, dropped his half a shilling into the jar, and left without another word, shutting the door behind him.

They were now alone, Fredricx and Ettie. He swallowed, ringing his hands. Without words, he pulled her into a hug. Her slender arms wrapped his back, and he inhaled the scent of her hair. It was clean and didn't reek of salt water.

"I love you," he exhaled, still holding her tightly.

"I love you too. What's wrong?"

"August displaced me, Ettie." Fredricx hugged a little further, feeling emotion well up between his eyeballs.

"What?" she shouted, dropping her arms for a moment and jerking away. Ettie made fierce eye contact with him. Her brown eyes were filled with confusion. "Why? You work so hard for Mr. August. How could he do that to you? How could he do that to us?"

"The Scourge, Ettie. He can't afford to pay me anymore." Even though she let go, he didn't. The headache returned with vengeance. Those small blood vessels swelled as the throbbing could be felt in between his skull and skin.

"Why you? You work so hard. Surely, there could have been someone else. What about that man Joel? You complain about him all of the time." She resumed their hug, but it felt more like an aggressive hold with how her fingers dug into his shoulders.

"I'll find another job, Ettie," he attempted to soothe.

XXXX

When Fredricx and Lucas were adolescents, the dishwashing at the local tavern did not stick. The alcohol did, however. Becoming men, they were expected to start careers. It was hoped that they would marry and have their own families. It was their mothers' dreams to have productive sons with their own children.

Fredricx's mother dreamed of herself having a beautiful, curly haired granddaughter and a strapping grandson. Things, however, didn't go as planned.

After the tavern job, Lucas started work at a textile factory, and Fredricx laid bricks. A couple of years passed in singleness for both. They worked, flirted, and did too much drinking.

However, Lucas became increasingly unhappy with his job. He switched over half a dozen times with each job getting more dangerous as if the risk of losing fingers and hands wasn't dangerous enough. There was more than one dark force in Yharham. Blood ministration and the Healing Church were not the only dangerous entities.

XXXX

The Boer War broke out in one of England's colonies. Soldiers were needed. A draft was instituted in Yharham. Lucas and Fredricx were selected.

Fredricx was enlisted in the British Royal Army. He excelled in his training. His bravery in combat promoted him quickly to a leader of other soldiers. Following orders with swiftness and justice, he was renowned among his peers and superiors. The money was decent enough. When the war was over, he was sent to London to debrief. He stayed on business, and Fredricx met and courted a beautiful curly haired woman. Fredricx and Ettie married in London. He worked there for months, enjoying the benefits of larger pay. They excitedly discussed children. Unfortunately, it wasn't long until Fredricx received a letter. The British Royal Army no longer needed him. Dejected, they moved to Yharham. Lucas pointed him toward to the shipyard, where he had been working for a while. With some arm twisting, Mr. August agreed to take Fredricx.

Lucas did not join the British Royal Army. He was rejected on the account of an extremity injury. Those shady jobs grew and gave birth to him working the streets for a gang in Yharham. It was unknowingly at first, using his street wits to smooth talk others into one sided deals and contracts. He, also, excelled, and as he did, his true employers revealed themselves. The money flowed freely, especially as he climbed the food chain. Soon enough, he was conning others into the low levels of the mafia. Lucas was able to use his silver tongue to avoid trouble with authorities. Anything that couldn't be talked out could be solved with violence. It wasn't Lucas who carried out the physical violence usually. That brought him no joy, but the money did.

When he received word that he had been drafted by the British Royal Army, he attempted that silver tongue. For once, it had not worked. Returning back to his bosses, they came up with a solution, a bullet to the leg. It didn't have to be deadly, but could get him out of the draft. Infection was the name of the risk. Lucas agreed. It hurt, but the money was worth it. Being a soldier did not pay as well as trafficking information.

Eventually, authorities captured Lucas with enough to imprison him. The mafia left him there. He was old news. Prison depleted his resources as one would have to pay for their own food, drink, and other amenities.

At first, he lived lavishly in prison. He wore his own clothes, pressed suits with long coattails. He ate his own food, which was prepared for him by his own cook. He drank all of the alcohol that he desired, wasting away the nights and days. Even on the occasion, with a large enough bribe to a sideways guard, women could visit him and stay a while. Those without money were not so lucky. Without money, prisoners would die of malnourishment. One could beg for money from passersbys as one of the prison walls was only prison bars.

Unable to support his lavish prison lifestyle for his entire stay, Lucas was moved from his well lit cell with furniture to a crowded, dark, and sickly cell with too many people. Many died of disease. Others of emaciation. Scourge nights were brutal as they had little to no protection against beasts. Prisoners were not worth wasting incense on. Lucas lived and inherited a cough. Eventually, he was released. The Yharham docks had a new yard master, a foreigner. With no clue of his reputation, Lucas found work as a shiphand.

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 **Author Note: Thank you so much to the two people who have followed my story! It is encouraging! Please review my story. Have your perspectives on Fredricx and Lucas changed? Would you like to see some more background on Ettie? Let me know!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Fredricx laid on his back, awake in their apartment. Ettie was asleep. On the other hand, he had not slept. It was mostly dark. Ettie would be up soon, and he had already resolved to spend the morning assisting her and the afternoon searching for at least temporary labor.

Their bed did not feel like its soft, welcoming self. Instead, it was as if he was lying on warm brick. He was exhausted. His mind could only think of their depleting pantry and the looming threat of rent.

Homeless didn't last long in Yharham. Workhouses were inhuman, separating genders and working them essentially all hours of the day to be allowed a spot on the ground in a cramped building. There were other options, spending a couple of pence a night to sleep in a wooden box. This way, the poor already had a coffin to be buried in. The Healing Church also had an option for the poor if their blood was rich. The greatest of these options was a slummy apartment even though they already lived in one. It would be smaller, darker, and dirtier.

As Fredricx's thoughts stirred around in his conscious, Ettie stirred awake. She let out a mixture of a grown and a yawn.

"Are you still awake, Fredricx?" she asked, flipping over to him. Her hand made contact with his bare chest.

He held her slender fingers. "I am."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"No."

"It will be okay somehow," she scooted closer. Her body was pleasantly warm against him. They stayed like this for long moments. Fredricx felt himself relax a little.

"I'm getting up." Ettie pulled away from him, stood, and began to redress.

Fredricx got up, stretched his back and neck and selected clothes. Something crisper would be needed to be selected. His nicest shirt was black without sweat or dirt stains. The collar was still clean. He slid his arms into the sleeves and buttoned the shirt. It was a little small around his arms and chest. Fredricx had grown stronger since starting at the shipyard.

Next, he selected and put on grey pants. They weren't worn in the knees, and the ends weren't stained from the salt of the ocean. Given that he only had one pair of suspenders, they were selected, but Fredricx took extra care to make sure they were straight and even. Shoes were also an easy to choose after socks were slipped on.

Using Ettie's soft brush, he raked his hair, bringing on that headache again. The ruddy color fell to the floor. He used small bits of cloth to carefully tie back his hair. One at the base of his skull and the other toward the end. He could feel his beard was scruffy. That could be dealt with later, but he went ahead and put a small pouch containing a razor and a small portion of soap into a leather pouch.

Ettie had long been dressed. She wore a long sleeved shirt that buttoned to her neck, and a sort of apron skirt. It looped around her neck, wrapped completely around her back, and tied in the front. It stopped at the right length to reveal black boots. Her hair was pulled back with a long handkerchief. A couple of curls framed her face. He was unsure if it was intentional or not.

"Are you going to eat breakfast?" she turned to face him, holding two plates.

"No."

"You need to eat, Fredricx. You didn't eat dinner last night."

"I'll take it with me," he accepted the plate, wrapped it up the contents with paper along with a fork, and slipped it into his small leather bag. Fredricx sat as she ate as he had done the night before. Within a few minutes, she was finished.

He snatched up the cumbersome basket of others' clothes and followed Ettie outside. It was surprisingly heavy. How could Ettie carry it?

They walked to the public bathhouse. Fredricx took the clothes with him on the men's side. Making use of the amenities, he found himself staring at the mirror. He looked presentable like an industrial man. He looked like someone worthy of respect.

Dampening his face, he scrubbed with the soap. Applying it to his beard, he cleaned the edges, creating neater lines and trimming his mustache at his lip. After rinsing, he felt a small surge of confidence.

He heaved the large basket up, after packing his razor and such, and made his way back to the gate. Ettie was waiting and gave him a small smile, "Someone looks handsome."

Fredricx offered a tired smile, finally feeling the lack of sleep start to drain him.

They headed toward the opposite side of Yharham that Fredricx normally frequented. In fact, Fredricx never headed against the docks. They lived in the center of Yharham, and most of Ettie's clients were in the old section of town.

On their way, they passed the Healing Church. A crowd of people had already assembled at the doors. These people had something missing in their eyes. Most of them were obviously sick. Some coughed, wheezed, or bled. Others were emaciated. Some were wrapped in bandages. Others appeared to have nothing wrong with them at all.

"How is Lucas doing?" Ettie asked, eyeing the people in line. They eyed back as the two of them hustled by. The Baffling Sickness wasn't contagious by air, but a host of other diseases were.

"He has whooping cough."

"What can be done?" she asked. Once past the church, they were in Old Yharham. The town almost immediately opened up. The sky was far more visible. There were even patches of green. Small trees and flowers sparsed the stone roads. Through this area, the roads comfortably fit horse drawn carriages, and they were plentiful.

"He can seek blood ministration," Fredricx answered, readjusting the basket. Even his arms were beginning to ache from the weight.

"Will he?" She took a turn down a side road. Fredricx could see the manor at the end of the street.

"I do not know."

They approached the main gate. It was made of tall wrought iron. It's intricate details flaunted immense wealth. However, they avoided this gate, and Fredricx followed Ettie to the left, along the fence. They rounded a corner and walked along the side of the garden and eventually the house. About three-quarters of the length of the fence, they found a small gate. Ettie opened it and held it open for Fredricx, who went inside. They walked a small stone path to the back of the house and entered a back door.

Immediately, all of the people inside the small room stopped, staring at Fredricx. They had entered into a kitchen. Five people had been busting around and suddenly froze.

"Ettie!" a small, blonde woman exclaimed loudly, "Who is this handsome man?"

"This is Fredricx," Ettie replied, obviously embarrassed as she stammered slightly.

The small woman's lip popped into a pout, "How disappointing. I was hoping he was the new gardener."

Ettie turned to Fredricx, "I'm going to put the clothes away. You can stay here." She then shifted her attention to the woman, "Julie, can you assist me?"

"Sure!" there was a brilliant smile as Julia bounded after Ettie, who had taken the basket from him earlier.

The rest of the group stared for another moment and then went back to what they had been doing. The kitchen was spacious and bright, filled with fresh food. There were no scrambled eggs insight. Instead, it appeared that breakfast consisted of small flour cakes dressed in liquid sugar, ham with onions and peppers, and fresh fruit cut meticulously into a salad.

Within the hour, Ettie and Julia reappeared. The basket was full again, and the two women were giggling.

"Time for me to get going," Ettie said to Julie, "I am cleaning the Jenkins' manor today."

"I can't see how you work for them," she shook her head.

Ettie smiled, glancing at Fredricx, "They pay me well."

The two of the exited the way they came and entered again into Yharham's streets. In this section of town, there wasn't much evidence of the Scourge. It still plagued the area, but it was cleared up much quicker. Money equaled health and cleanliness.

XXXX

Fredricx carried the basket again for Ettie. It was not empty. This time, instead of folded, fresh smelling clothes, the basket contained stained and strewn garments. More for Ettie to launder.

The Jenkins' manor was far more impressive than the last. It seemed like a fortress on the outside with a tall, brick fence and beautifully guarded windows of decorative wrought iron. The inside was nothing short of lavish. The floors shined. Light poured in from many directions, making everything wash white. Furniture looked as if to be looked at. It didn't appear to have ever been used before.

Feeling uncomfortably out of place, Fredricx caught Ettie's attention before she disappeared into another room. "I'm going back into town. I want to check out the public boards."

"Okay, I'll see you at home later," Ettie gave a small smile, taking the basket from Fredricx. They embraced for just a moment.

"Okay, see you at home."

Fredricx exited the manor and headed back to Central Yharham. The public boards were near a clinic, a couple of minutes walk from their apartment. The clinic offered more experimental blood treatment for charity. It was a sort of testing grounds for the Healing Church, but the two groups were not the same and were not always on the best terms with another.

The boards were still standing from the previous hunt. They were basically wooden signposts that people would nail flyers. Some were lost and found. Some offered services. However, Fredricx was interested in job postings.

A few other people milled in front of the boards. They glanced backwards at Fredricx as he approached. It was clear what was being thought.

Literacy wasn't common among the working class. In fact, most of the shiphands couldn't read. It was a skill of the wealthy or the lucky. Fredricx fell into that second group. The mistress that Lucas's mother nannied for was gracious, and she taught Lucas to read. Lucas taught Fredricx from there.

After the bafflers sidestepped, Fredricx had a clear look at the board. Some of the headlines caught his attention, but were not particularly useful:

"Hiring woman under 30 as live in nanny. Roland Residence."

"Looking for young boys to train as chimney sweeps. No pay. Food and rent included. Come by Central Yharham."

"Small fingers needed in textile factory. 10 pence per day."

"Post Scourge crew. Pay is 5 shillings per day needed. Inquire at marketplace center."

Other headlines were more useful than the previous.

"Soldier types needed for night time security work. 1 shilling per night. Off on Sunday. Inquire at Roux Estate."

"Temporary construction work in cathedral courtyard area. Half a shilling per day."

Fredricx took the security flier off of the board and pocketed it. As he was about to turn and start once again for Old Yharham, a flyer, tucked and tattered in the corner, grabbed his attention. The lettering was scratched on the paper in unattractive handwriting. It seemed to have been written in a rush or with no concern. It was hardly legible.

"Hunters. Blood ministration. Kill. Glory. Gold. See inside."

XXXX


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Roux Estate was expansive. It was larger than the apartment building that Ettie and Fredricx resided and was far more ornate. Sure, the estate had the wrought iron, beautifully and masterfully twisted into scenes. Sure, its size rivaled most of Yharham's market center. Sure, the garden had the most green space that Fredricx had seen since fighting as a soldier in lush forests. Sure, the estate had its own bathhouse.

Fredricx swallowed the lump in his throat that had suddenly appeared. This job would be better than working as a shiphand. It would pay literally twice as much. Fredricx would also be off one day a week, a luxury that was afforded to a very few.

His back wouldn't hurt. His fingers wouldn't be blistered and calloused. He wouldn't come home exhausted, but could spend time with Ettie instead of immediately retiring to bed. This job would change Fredricx's life.

They could move into a bigger apartment and eat chicken and beef. Fredricx could see a doctor and buy new glasses. Ettie could buy herself new dresses and maybe jewelry. Best of all, there would be no more scrambled eggs.

Taking in a deep breath, this did little to settle Fredricx's heart. He was afraid. Looking down at his clothes, he attempted to straighten them. Ettie would be ashamed of the wrinkles his shirt had collected. Aside from the wrinkles, he hoped that his sweat could only be felt and not seen.

"Just settle the horses, Fredricx," he spoke to himself in a low tone. He hadn't even entered the gate of the Roux estate. Mustering up confidence, he went a little further. As he went to let himself through the gate, he was stopped by a sharply dressed man.

"Stop," this man commanded calmly. His voice didn't quite match his look. "State your business."

Fredricx pulled the folded flyer from his pocket, showing it him. "I saw this posting outside of the clinic. I would like to inquire about it."

The man raised an eyebrow, "What? You?"

"Yes, sir," Fredricx answered, swallowing nervousness.

"What makes you qualified to be employed here?"

Fredricx attempted to stand a little straighter, "I was a soldier of the Boer Wars. I even led a small group of men."

"Can you read?"

Fredricx nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Oh, really?" the man asked. He took the flyer from Fredricx's hand and held it close to his chest. "Read this."

Fredricx leaned forward slightly. The words were a little hazy around the edges. "Soldier types needed for night time security work. 1 shilling per night. Off on Sunday. Inquire at Roux Estate."

The man tilted his head, "You said 'Roux' incorrectly. Are you sure you can read?"

Fredricx nodded again, feeling a rock rise in his body. This rock was anger. "With respect, sir, I do not speak or read French. I can assure you, however, I can read."

"Sure," the man trailed his voice off in a manner that suggested to Fredricx that he wasn't quite in belief. "Come this way, sir. What do you call yourself?"

Fredricx extended his hand, "My name is Fredricxon Vinge."

"Alright, Mr. Vinge, right this way." The man ignored Fredricx's gesture and opened the gate for them both. They entered through and into the garden that had far more colors than Fredricx was use to. In fact, it sort of made his eyes ache.

Within a few paces, they entered the estate. The inside was nothing short of immaculate. Chairs matched another and the surrounding furniture.

"Wow," Fredricx muttered to himself.

"Don't tread too brashly. Master Roux requires everything to be pristine," said this sharply dressed man as others darted around.

They walked up a set of stairs and into a room that was no less elaborate than the garden and the entry way with its gold chandelier. Both had golden chandeliers. However, just one would have secured Fredricx's job as a shiphand for at least 5 years. How wealthy must one be to have wealth secure the room's lighting?

A man was sitting at a strong desk, hunched over. However, the man didn't seem particularly strong. Physically, the man was pallor with dark hair. His suit was far more impressive than his sharp cheekbones and long nose. Despite the nose, he seemed unmistakably confident.

"Master Roux," the sharply dressed man called. His tone was suddenly polite, full of respect. Where was that respect not so long ago?

"Yes? Who is this, Donvan?" Mr. Roux looked up from his papers and glasses, but his posture did not change. Also, he did not bother to stand.

"Master Roux, he calls himself Fredricxon Vinge. He is here to inquire about the night time security work."

Mr. Roux's eyebrows raised. The pen in his hand twitched. Small ink droplets sprayed his document. "Donvan, I requested you to screen candidates before you brought them to me."

"I did, sir," Donvan said as he gave a sideward glance toward Fredricx. It was just that, sideward.

"Oh, did you?" he sarcastically quipped to Donvan. Roux turned to Fredricx, "Why are you here, Mr. Vinge?" Roux finally stood and rounded his desk.

Fredricx inhaled, feeling nervousness well up again, and spoke, "I am here to inquire about your night time security position."

"Sure," Roux folded his arms in front of his chest. "What makes you think that you could be a candidate?"

"Sir, I am a veteran of the British Royal Army from the Boer Wars. I did well in training and on the field. My superiors made me in charge other men on the front lines."

Roux nodded. "What color of men did you lead?"

"All colors, sir," Fredricx replied. His response would surely appeal to Roux. Hopefully, it would communicate that Fredricx was a man that was worthy of respect.

A slight hum exited his lips. Roux readjusted his glasses, looking at Fredricx for the first time since he entered. There was a long pause, and then, Roux spoke, "What have you been doing since the Boer Wars?"

"I was in London for a time, working for the army. Then, I moved back to Yharham. I took work as a shiphand, down at the docks."

"Shiphand?" Roux confirmed, not sounding particularly impressed. "What happened with that?"

Fredricx internally cringed, "I was displaced because the docks have taken an economic downturn with the Scourge. They couldn't afford to pay my wages."

"Were many other of the shiphands displaced?"

"No, sir."

Roux gave another nod. "Mr. Fredricx, I would like you to come with me. There are a few tests that I would like to administer to see if you could be a candidate."

XXXX

The three men started to exit out of the office and into a hallway. Roux swiftly turned. "Donvan, you will not be accompanying us," his tone was sharp.

From there, Roux and Fredricx made their way down the stairs once again, through the entryway, out the front door, rounded the building, and stopped at the backside of the house in the garden.

"Fredricxon Vinge, as per my policy, I ask all potential candidates these questions and administer these tests. It isn't anything particular about your inquiry." Roux was matter of fact. They locked eyes for a moment, "Are you ready to begin?"

Fredricx nodded.

"Would you be willing to be completely clean shaven for the duration of your employment? I want my security detail to look presentable at all times because even if you are not working, you are still working by representing me. A clean shaven face is the mark of a gentleman."

Without thought, Fredricx answered, "That wouldn't be a problem." Being hired would mean no more scrambled eggs, and shaving was nothing compared to eating scrambled eggs twice a day.

Roux nodded, "First test passed."

From there, they went back inside, up a different flight of stairs, and into a sitting room that held several large armchairs, a table with cards, and many paintings.

"Mr. Vinge, I would like you to move that armchair across the room there," Roux pointed first to a large red chair and then dragged his pointing across the room into a corner.

"Alright," Fredricx offered calmly. With relative ease, he picked up the chair by its back, hoisted it across the room, and set it down in specified corner.

"Move it back."

Without a word, Fredricx did. The nervousness that he was feeling became annoyance. He was no butler, but this wasn't the time to express displeasure.

"Second and third test passed. I don't want a member of my detail to question my requests," Roux's mouth looked slightly less like a frown, "I also require someone who is strong."

Fredricx didn't say anything, but straightened his clothes.

Roux walked out of the room, back into a hallway, and into another room. It was a library. Books lined walls from floor to ceiling. Plucking a book from one of the shelves, seemingly at random, Roux opened it and handed it to Fredricx, "Can you read?"

Fredricx, glancing down at the book, nodded, "Yes, sir. I can."

"Show me."

He started at the top of the left hand page, "In the early 1500s, the bubonic plague ravished Yharham, the surrounded countryside, and the forests. Most likely, the plague was a curse from a higher being to punish Yharham's foolhardiness. However, the plague could have been a result of foreign ships, whose people were as equally foolhardy. These ships would have docked at the growing city. From January to July, thousands of people had been infected. Special doctors, wearing white, animalistic masks, would attempt to treat patients with many sorts of blood treatment. Some doctors theorized that letting blood would cure illness by balancing the three liquids of the body. Other doctors theorized adding blood would overpower the sickness. To an extent, the second group was correct or lucky. However, some of the patients turned into otherworldly creatures, according to legend. This legend states that-..."

Roux interrupted, "Thank you, Fredricx. You have passed the fourth test, and the last one is simple. I want you to walk me back to the garden."

Luckily, Fredricx was anxious and therefore blinded with a sudden inability to recall directions. Inhaling slowly and deeply, Fredricx strained to remember their path so far. They had essentially used the grand staircases every time they transitioned.

"Right this way, sir," Fredricx offered, exiting the library-like room, which was the door they came in. That had been an easy decision because there were two doors. One of which was closed.

From inside a long hallway, it would make the most sense that the staircase would be on either one side or the other. Taking a few steps to the right, Fredricx swiveled as that was not the correct direction. Instead, he led Roux left through the hallway and down the grand staircase that Fredricx was happy to see. From there, they went out a side door from a lounging area, rounded a corner of the manor, and ended up in the place they had stood initially in the back garden.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Vinge," Roux nodded, arms loosely at his sides, "You have passed all of the tests."

 **Author Note: Thank you to the 3 people who have left reviews for my story! It is encouraging to know that someone is enjoying it other than me!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Fredricx felt a huge sense of relief well up in his body. This was internally demonstrated by shoulder and arm muscles unknotting, insides untwisting, and nervousness quieting. He had passed all of the tests. Fredricx was far better suited for this job than the shipyard. Here, with Roux, he would be treated with respect as a hard working man should.

"Come inside with me to discuss your wages, Mr. Vinge," Roux smiled.

At once, a small girl appeared in Fredricx's peripheral vision. She resembled Roux dramatically, especially in hair color and skin complexion. "Father," she started in a small voice.

Roux turned, facing away from Fredricx. "Hello, Dinah. What is it that you need, dear?"

"I was wondering if-..." her voice trailed off as her line of vision caught Fredricx, eyeing him from the top of his head to his leather shoes. Dinah stumbled backwards a little, but managed not to fall. "Who is this?" she asked, now using Roux as a barrier between herself and Fredricx.

Roux glanced between the small girl and Fredricx. The furrowed eyebrows and set jaw gave away that he was thinking seriously. "This is Mr. Vinge. He is inquiring to be one of our guards."

"But he has dark skin," Dinah objected. She seemed partially confused.

Roux put a hand on his daughter's head, giving a slight ruffle to her hair, "Gentlemanship doesn't know skin color. A respectable man can look anyway. Please, Dinah, go back inside. Wait for me in my office."

The small girl nodded, gave Fredricx a long look, and disappeared back inside the manor. The furrowed brow and set jaw appeared once again. Roux stayed like this for long moments as Fredricx watched.

"Mr. Vinge," Roux started, scratching the side of his face for a moment, "Although you have passed all of my tests and seem like an honorable enough man, I will not be adding you into my security detail."

The internal quieting transformed immediately into red, boiling emotion. His skin seemed to catch fire. "I passed all of your tests. I was a soldier," Fredricx was impressed with how calm his voice resounded despite the intense spike in blood pressure. He always had to keep his emotions in check.

"My apologies, Mr. Vinge," Roux gave a sad smile, "I have small daughters. I want them to feel safe around the men that are suppose to be protecting them. I'm afraid that they will find you intimidating."

"Do you not believe what you said to your own daughter about how any man can be worthy of respect?" Fredricx countered. "I would not do anything to hurt your daughters."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Vinge. You will have to inquire elsewhere for work. I will walk you to the gate if you would like," Roux glossed over, offering Fredricx a handshake

Fredricx accepted the gesture with a tight grip, "I can make it myself."

XXXX

With a vehement sigh, Fredricx was now standing in front of the Healing Church. People were still lined up, waiting for treatment. Nuns would usher small groups of people inside. The patients exiting wore vibrant smiles that were so wide that one might think that their faces might rip.

As true to the flyer, there was construction on one of the Church's walls. Many men and even some women were bricklaying and wood working. It was easy to spot who was in charge. This man was wearing a black overcoat with a white clerical collar, and his hat was black with a short brim.

"Father," Fredricx approached him.

The church uniformed man turned, locking gaze with Fredricx, "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Fredricxon Vinge. I would like to inquire for temporary construction labor."

"Pleasure to meet you, Fredricxon Vinge. Unfortunately, the Church is no longer employing for construction work." The Father was particularly calm, waving him away with a sympathetic smile.

"How can that be?" Fredricx asked as there was clearly more to be done, "I am an experienced brick layer."

"The church has an image to uphold as we provide treatment for the wealthy and for travelers from across the world. You don't fit the image," the man was unbelievably docile and not even a little off put by what he was saying.

"I can assure you that I am a respectable man," Fredricx tried to soothe, feeling more red emotion well up in his chest. At once, his head throbbed. He could feel arteries pulse blood around his head.

"I have no doubt that you are respectable. My desire is for the Healing Church's welfare. I don't have an issue with you, Mr. Vinge. Don't make it into an issue."

After thanking the Father, Fredricx meandered Yharham for a while, checking less popular public notices for jobs. Those notices turned up empty immediately or after a conversation. Was there no employment for Fredricx in Yharham? Surely, in this city where deaths outnumbered births, there would be employment in Yharham.

Before dark, Fredricx found himself in a familiar tavern with a familiar bartender, who wore a familiar, wrinkled smile.

"Good evening, Fredricx," Walter called to him as he entered, "It's been a while. How's Ettie?"

Fredricx heavily took a seat in front of the round man, "She's fine, working hard."

"Great to hear. How's the shipyard treating you? Got that raise yet?" Walter was cheerful. His pink cheeks exacerbated his smile.

Fredricx used his index finger and thumb to massage his temples, "I don't work there anymore, Walter. August displaced me."

"Found new work?"

"Not yet. Rent is due in three days."

Walter shook his head, giving Fredricx an empathetic frown and an eyebrow crease. "I know a job that would be perfect for you. Roux Estate is looking for security detail. You're perfect for it with your time in the military and physical prowess."

"I went by there this morning. Even though I passed all of Roux's tests, he didn't hire me," Fredricx groaned, feeling like pounding his head against the wooden bar that ran along the tavern. Somehow, he resisted. The headache was enough without adding blunt force trauma.

"I'm sorry, Fredricx. Can I get you a drink on me?" Walter asked.

Fredricx nodded and then surveyed the rest of the room. There wasn't anyone else sitting at the bar, but there was rough half a dozen people grouped in various ways among the scraggly tables. A young woman went from table to table, making conversation and swapping empty for full drinks. One man was dressed strangely, sitting alone.

A drink appeared in front of him, and Fredricx took a guzzle before setting it down on the bar top again. With a sigh, he looked at Walter, who gave a sympathetic head tilt and shake.

"You know, Fredricx, I also saw that the Healing Church was looking for some construction help. I know it isn't the most ideal, but that could help," Walter suggested, pouring drinks for another table.

Fredricx rested his head against his hand, which was attached to a propped elbow on the counter. "I talked to them as well. The Father told me I would scare away foreigners from blood ministration."

"Father Gascoigne isn't know for being color blind."

Fredricx took another gulp of the alcohol. It had been a while. Ettie's and his financial status had prevented such a luxury.

"It's difficult being an African man in Yharham, Walter." As he brought the cool glass to his lips, a presence slipped beside Fredricx. Inhaling, there was no questioning this man was a hunter. Their smell gave them away. Because of their reputation, it was unusual to find one without a looming hunt.

Surprisingly, the man was of similar complexion and looked powerful. His hair was cut short, revealed when he took a tricorn hat off and rested it on the counter. "My name is Adullam," a handshake was extended, "I overheard your conversation. Have you ever considered hunting?"

"I'm Fredricx Vinge," he took the gesture, "I am looking for honest work."

Adullam began after shifting his glance side to side, "One hundred gold pieces per hunt. Work is hard, but short."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fredricx inquired as he stopped furiously rubbing his temples and locked eyes with Adullam.

The hunter gave a shrug, and stayed silent just long enough to make the room uncomfortable, "People like us need to stick together."

"If I could make a hundred gold pieces in a night," Walter started, "Fredricx, that is far better than lugging cargo and cleaning blood from the docks."

Fredricx's head tilted backwards has he guzzled some of the liquid gold. The glass clinked on the countertop, and he rested his forearms on the bar, leaning toward Adullam. "I said that I am looking for honest work."

Adullam mimicked Fredricx's gesture. They were a few inches shy of nose to nose. Letting out a long breath through his nose, Adullam whispered, "The beasts ravage the streets with cleaver, sword, torch, and gun to cast down those who are well. They do not discriminate between man and man's woman and children. To slay beasts is of upright character, respectable character. Yharham will not rid itself of these monsters, so Hunters must do so. This is honest work, and I say again that this is honest work."

XXXX

 **Author Note: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I'm sorry that this chapter took a while. After reading the review from VexEchoUmbra that was very inspiring, I decided that I wanted to change some character development of Adullam as well as alter the timeline of the story.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"How did your search go today, Fredricx?" Ettie asked, preparing them dinner, which was going to be more scrambled eggs.

"Not well. I haven't found anything yet."

Ettie frowned at him with her eyebrows knitted together. Her tone changed. It wasn't as chipper. "Where did you inquire?"

"Roux Estate and construction for the Healing Church."

Nothing was said for a while. Ettie was clearly distraught, which could easily be seen by her jerky movements as she continued to cook. Her gestures were violent and careless. Objects jostled around her, teetering. This did wonders to settle Fredricx's stress. Instead of settling, a headache prevailed. Blood throbbed viciously through his face and arms, making him warm and therefore sweaty.

"Let me help, Ettie," Fredricx stood, placing one hand on Ettie's shoulder and the other on the plates that she was holding. "I can do that," he gave a gentle tug on the plates to signal for Ettie to let go, "Let me do it."

"I got it," Ettie let out a frustrated huff and gave a retaliated pull on the two plates. At this instant, Fredricx let go, and the plates left both of their hands and shattered on the floor. There was a gasp from Ettie.

"I'm sorry, Ettie," Fredricx offered softly with a sigh, "I'll clean it." He reached for a small hand brush and dust pan in a corner and began to sweep the pieces into the pan. Small porcelain pieces mixed seamlessly with the grime of the floor.

She grabbed their last two plates. "We don't have dinnerware to waste, Fredricx. These are our last two plates. It's not like we have the shilling to buy more, let alone a matching set," she sighed, plating food. They had pawned off the rest of their set a while back to pay rent last time it had been due. However, they never rebuilt the money to get their things back, and the rest of their plates had been sold.

"I know, Ettie. I just wanted to help," Fredricx attempted to express calmly. Eyes burning, He tipped the dustpan into their rubbish bin and sat down at the table.

"So now you don't want to help anymore?" Ettie demanded, sitting down two half empty plates of scrambled eggs. She stood, arms folded across her chest.

"I was just trying to get out of your way."

"You never help me with anything around here. I work all day like you, but I have to come home to more work. You come home and eat and then sleep. You never help, but sit in that stupid chair of yours. Like right now, you were watching me cook, but did you offer to help? No. Don't you think that I would like to rest every once in awhile? Then, when you finally decided to do something, the plates broke. Now, we only have two left. What are we supposed to do if those break?"

The pounding of the blood around his body did not stop, causing Fredricx's headache to intensify. "I said I was sorry, Ettie. I didn't mean to break the plates."

"That's the only thing you are apologising for?" she let out a disgusted sigh.

Fredricx shook his head and started at his food although he no longer felt like eating. Hopefully, Ettie would leave it well enough alone. The food was blander than normal. Fredricx had eaten too many dozen eggs over the last couple of months, but chewing was better than talking.

"Nothing to say?" Ettie pestered. She was finally sitting with fork in hand, "Answer my question."

At once, there was a sharp knock. "Mr. Fredricxon Vinge, open the door," the voice resounded.

Sighing, Fredricx stood, walked over, and opened the door. It was exactly as he fretted. He was staring down their landlord, a rather squat man that seemed to be built entirely of circles. Fredricx feigned an at least not hostile tone, "Evening, Mr. Bailey."

"May I come in?" Bailey asked, having already entered their apartment by ducking underneath Fredricx's arm, which had been pressed against the door.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Bailey?" Ettie squeaked, plastering a modest smile. She smoothed her wrinkled dress.

"I've come to collect your rent, Mr. Vinge."

Fredricx crossed his arms, "It isn't due for another three days. That was our agreement."

"Have you found another job yet, Fredricxon?" Bailey asked, letting out several tsking sounds. Obviously, he already knew the answer to his question.

"No, I haven't."

Bailey made another tsking noise, "What a shame. Then, I shall collect it now. I won't have you thinking that you can live here for free, now."

"With respect, Mr. Bailey, we have three more days," Fredricx insisted, "A lot can happen in three days."

"Do you have the money regardless of your current employment situation?" he asked, taking in everything about their apartment.

Fredricx pulled out their jar, which clearly wasn't full enough, and began counting shillings, half shillings, and even pence. Everyone watched. Ettie with concerned eyes, and Bailey with greedy eyes.

"We have 7 shillings," Fredricx sounded defeated, shoulders slumping.

"That isn't enough, Fredricxon," Bailey taunted, using tsking to echo his words, "You are still missing about half, which will not due. I'll need you out by tomorrow evening."

"What?" Ettie exclaimed. "We still have three days to come up with the rest."

"How?" he demanded.

Fredricx inhaled deeply before speaking, "Let me give you the 7 shillings right now. Give us a couple of more days to acquire the 5 more."

"Fredricxon, 12 shillings now or be gone by this time tomorrow," Bailey insisted, but then glanced over to Ettie with a particular malice. "However, I would release the debt if you let Ettie come with me for the night."

In an instant, Fredricx's fingers coiled, and using his arm like a loaded spring, his fist shot out. It immediately connected with Bailey's jaw, sending him to the floor with a loud thud that the neighbors surely heard.

Bailey sputtered backwards on the floor, gasping and vigorously shaking his head. "I'm going to get a policeman, and you both must be gone by the time we return." He stood and dashed away, leaving their apartment door open.

"What do we do now?" Ettie asked, looking particularly dumbstruck.

Fredricx clenched and unclenched his fist. He huffed out, "We pay Lucas a visit."

XXXX

Within half an hour, Fredricx and Ettie had collected some of their things, the important things anyway. Ettie had a basket worth of others' clothes with some of her clothes and their quilt piled on top, her beautiful vase carefully wrapped in her nicest dress. Fredricx carried his knapsack with their shilling jar, partial deck of cards, their two plates, and the rest of their authentic silverware. Fredricx also had a milk crate of his clothes and other odds and ends. Importantly, his pistol was holstered at his thigh.

With a final survey of their apartment, Fredricx opened the door for Ettie and closed it behind them.

"All of the things we are leaving," Ettie sighed as they trekked down Yharham's streets. "We don't even have our pillows, let alone our mattress."

"I'll go by tomorrow and see if I can salvage anything, Ettie," Fredricx answered. "We got the important stuff."

"I do wish Lucas didn't live so far away."

With a couple of minutes seeming like an eternity, they arrived at Lucas's apartment. His door faced into the street, which wasn't as safe during the Scourge, but was convenient for this moment. Without a free hand, Fredricx delivered a swift kick to the door, "Lucas. It's Fredricx." After a couple of moments of waiting with no avail, Fredricx knocked again with his shoe. "Lucas," he shouted.

Eventually, the door opened lazily, being operated by a sleepy looking Lucas, whose greyed nightgown looked particularly disheveled and hair was in a terrible mess. "What is it? I was asleep." he hissed at Fredricx. Blinking, his eyes moved to Ettie in the background, "What's going on?"

"Bailey kicked us out."

Lucas nodded, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly at the two of them. "Wait," he started, "Bailey evicted you?" He sounded concerned unlike his initial reaction.

"Yes. May we come in?" Fredricx asked, reshifting the weight that he carried.

Sidestepping, Lucas allowed entrance into his apartment. "How did this happen? I didn't think your rent was due today."

"It wasn't. Bailey heard that I didn't have a job and decided to collect early. We didn't have the shilling."

"You can stay here until you find somewhere else." Lucas lit a candle, and the room lit up, shadows flickered as the candle did.

Lucas's apartment was smaller than theirs. It was dark and dank in the wrong places. He had a collection of overturned crates and cotton padding as a bed. A couple of blankets were strewn on top. He had a sort of kitchen. It was really counter space that held random food items. Clothes hung to dry by a clothesline attached to random places on the ceiling by bent nails. Across from the bed, he had a large trunk that likely held clothes and other personal effects, but on top, there were too many empty incense lanterns.

Lucas pulled off a layer of his nest of a bed and strung it out on the floor, which happened to be next to everything else in his apartment.

Ettie let out a sizeable sigh as she set down her basket, fished out their quilt, and laid it out on top of the padded layer from Lucas.

"Did you two eat dinner?" Lucas asked, glancing over to his counter.

"No," Ettie answered with a huff, "We had to leave it."

Lucas produced some bread that had seen a couple of days as well as some jam and handed Ettie a tin plate with the contents. "This is all I have right now," he coughed and coughed. When he was done coughing, he coughed more violently, heaving and whooping.

"It's much more than what we have," Fredricx replied. Ettie's face flushed, lip giving a pout.

"I'm going back to sleep. Blow out the candle when you are finished." With that, Lucas took a single step, landing in his bed of sorts.

Fredricx and Ettie sat on their quilt, taking turns holding the plate and munching. The bread was stale, and the jam was sour. However, it was better than being hungry. After a few silent moments, they had both finished. Lucas coughed from his bed.

While Fredricx took off his shoes, socks, suspenders, and shirt, Ettie couldn't be as comfortable. Trying to retain modesty, she removed her boots and apron. With another sigh, she laid down on her back. Her chest heaved, breath unsteady. "How did all of this happen?" she started to cry softly.

Fredricx had blown out the candle and was now laying beside her. "I don't know." In less than a week's time, Fredricx had lost his job at the shipyard and been evicted from their apartment. He had no job leads, but Ettie was working all hours of a day. None of this was enough. Before, he had been a soldier, respected and fulfilled. Shillings were no issue. However, now Ettie, the woman he swore to provide for, was lying on the floor of Lucas's, another man's, apartment. Water from damp clothes made small drops around them. "I don't know," he repeated. Fredricx had failed. It was easy to facade strength in the dark.

XXXX


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Ettie and I's apartment had been cleared out before I got there," Fredricx exclaimed to his friend. His chest heaved, feeling air slowly fill his lungs again.

Lucas coughed in response. They sat in the middle of the market, eating lunch. Lucas would be due back at the shipyard in a couple of minutes, and Fredricx longed to have that same calling.

"You and Ettie can stay with me for as long as needed." He fell into another coughing fit. In order to subdue it, Lucas banged on his chest with a closed fist. It must have worked because within moments, he stopped the seizing.

Fredricx stretched his back, spine clicking. The night had been rough. His bones ached. "I need employment."

"I know. You'll find something. There has to be other construction work or a mason that requires assistance. Maybe, you could drive a carriage or be a footman for an aristocrat."

Fredricx had spent the morning searching. It was the entire morning searching as Ettie's typical rousings woke both men. "No one seems to have use for me." Fredricx was angry.

"You need respect, Fredricx. More than money, I think. I'd like some too. I am incurably sick with no family, living in a moldy apartment and working in a rotten shipyard in a rotten city. Let's do something about all of this."

"What can be done?"

XXXX

It was late afternoon. However, it wasn't as expected. Instead of a light sunset over Yharham, streaming light down its narrow, often crowded streets, a hunt was pending. The moon hung low in the sky already at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. The sun was quickly waning, and the rats and hunters were scurrying.

There had been little warning. Streets were filled once again with angry townsfolk, brandishing clubs and other such things. Streets were filled with hurried pedestrians, carrying coin bags. Incense had to be purchased. However, the onset of the hunt without warning, drove up prices. Fredricx was among this crowd, waiting in line behind dozens of others.

The dark would bring on beasts, and he wanted to be tucked behind a door with Lucas and Ettie before the sun had completed faded away. Yharhamites in front grumbled back and forth to another. What would stop a riot against this incense vendor? Nothing

"Nice to see you, Fredricx."

He looked, staring eye to eye with the hunter. "Good evening, Adullam."

"What are you waiting in this line for?" he asked in a comical, sarcastic way. He gave a chuckle to himself, holding a pistol in his hands with a sword of some kind sheathed on his back.

Fredricx shook his head, but still bothered to answer the pointless question, "An incense lantern."

"Have you found work yet?"

Fredricx's jaw tensed, fists clenching against the shillings in his hands. A blood vessel above his eye started to pull tight. "No."

Without a response, Adullam started off down toward the front of the line.

Fredricx turned over the coins in his hands, eyebrows knitting. Would he have enough shilling?

A few minutes longer still, and Adullam merged, but this time instead of carrying his gun, he brandished two lanterns. "A gift for you, Fredricx."

"Why?"

Adullam offered them again with an exasperated look. "Accept my kindness, Mr. Vinge," he breathed out.

"What do you get in return?" Fredricx questioned, pocketing the shilling and accepting both lanterns. He stepped out of line, locking eyes with Adullam, who still wore the tricorn hat. He had a dark mask around his neck that Fredricx imagined could easily be pulled up around his mouth and nose. He started down the street, expecting Adullam to follow, and he did.

They walked side by side. Fredricx was in black trousers, suspenders, and a collared shirt that was damaged from sea water. Adullam was in grey trousers, a golden stitched overcoat, and an embroidered red shirt. This shirt had white ruffles underneath.

"Do you want me to pay you for them?"

"No," the hunter retorted, "Do you often pay for gifts?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I desire to."

Adullam walked with Fredricx to Lucas's apartment door. This was the best part of town to be in when the hunt started. It had paper thin walls and doors as well as narrow corridors and an overpopulation of sick Yharhamites.

"You live here?" Adullam inquired, a single eyebrow raised. "I can hear people coughing and vomiting inside their own homes. You will be trapped between beasts outside on the street and beasts inside the building."

"I am staying with a friend for now." Sitting down the lanterns, he crossed his arms.

"What happened?"

Fredricx sighed and internally debated on lying to preserve his dignity. "Ettie and I didn't have the shilling to cover rent for the quarter."

"One hundred gold pieces would buy you more than a house." Adullam smiled.

Another sigh was let out. He knew. Fredricx was well aware how even just one hundred pieces of gold would change his life.

Fredricx spotted Lucas as he rounded the street corner. The man looked particularly disheveled with clothes askew and hair flattened and protruding unevenly. His pace was unsteady and face was flushed. His staggering came to a sudden halt in front of Adullam and Fredricx. At once, he hinged at the waist and vomited on the street. It left a dark puddle on the stone. Following after, Lucas fell into a storm of coughing. That whooping sound seemed to reverberate down the street. Standing straight, Lucas looked bewilderedly at the blood on his shirt sleeve and then between Fredricx and Adullam.

"Where is Ettie?" Lucas spat out his words and some additional red.

The hunter unclinked his weapon, sword gliding seamlessly from the sheath. The sword was brought back swiftly, but it seemed oddly slow. Slowly enough for Fredricx to lunge.

XXXX

Leaping forward, Fredricx grabbed Adullam's weapon bearing arm. The sword halted mid swing, but Fredricx did not, yanking forward Adullam's arm and body, so that they were now both facing the same direction. Using his free hand, Fredricx yanked the pistol from Adullam's holster and cocked the hammer, digging the end of the barrel between Adullam's ribs. "You might want to reconsider your position," Fredricx hissed.

 **Author Note: This chapter is short because I have been and will continue to be busy this week. Thank you, VexEchoUmbra, for reviewing! You are awesome! Your reviews make me very happy.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Inhaling deeply, Adullam spoke calmly, turning his head toward Fredricx, "May I sheath my blade?"

His jaw clenched, but Fredricx nodded, dropping the Hunter's arm and sharply prodding him forward by his lower back. True to his word, the Hunter carefully slid the weapon into its sheath and raised his hands parallel with his shoulders. In the background, Lucas was vomiting again, spraying blood on the ground below.

"When the moon replaces the sun, that man you are frivolously saving will transform. Another hunter will come along and slay him in a less merciful fashion. This way, he will die a human, respect preserved."

"He does not have baffling sickness," Fredricx shouted, "He will not turn into a beast."

"Fredricx, I'm sorry," Adullam started. He spoke as if to calm an ill tempered child. "I made a mistake. I misjudged." He turned, now facing Fredricx. His hands started to lower. "I don't think your friend will live much longer regardless."

"That hunter just tried to kill me!" Lucas exclaimed, swiping leftover vomit from his face with his sleeve. "How do you know this Hunter, Fredricx?" Lucas demanded, coughing again, "He just tried to kill me. I'd vomit again if there was anything left in my innards."

"I'm Adullam," the Hunter smiled, showing yellowing teeth and extending a handshake, "I won't try to kill you again unless it comes to it."

There was a furious headshake coupled with a bewildered look of enlarged eyes and slightly open mouth. Lucas didn't accept Adullam's hand. Instead, he turned his words, but not his attention to Fredricx, "Where is Ettie? It's nearly dark."

"Old Yharham."

"Old Yharham?" Adullam's eyebrows raised. "Why is she there?"

"Why, in sweet name of the Healing Church, would you care about her?" Lucas berated. No one acknowledged him.

"She washes clothes for the aristocracy."

"She isn't safe there."

"How do you know?" Fredricx asked, feeling tension start to build between his shoulders and deep within his skull. He could still feel the adrenaline from their encounter, but this was different. Locking his jaw, Fredricx's whole person seemed to bubble.

There was a sideward glance as well as a sigh from Adullam. "I overheard something earlier today from Father Gascoigne. If Ettie is in Old Yharham, she is in danger."

XXXX

Fredricx watched as Lucas slumped inside his apartment. His muscles seem to shake in his jaw and face. Blood colored his clothes.

"I'll go get her," Fredricx stated.

"You'll go get her," Adullam mocked with an exasperated tone. "The moon is out. Beasts wander the streets. Only hunters are fit to be out after dark, and even then, we aren't safe."

"I'm going to get my wife, and I'm taking this with me," Fredricx referenced the gun that he was still holding, "Give me your other bullets."

With a slight smirk, Adullam fished around in his overcoat pocket and surrendered a handful of bullets. These weren't like bullets Fredricx had seen as they were lighter and had a liquid that sloshed around the inside.

"Let's go," Adullam, of all reactions, smiled.

"Why would you?"

"I desire it."

Fredricx left the incense lanterns with Lucas, detailing the plan to him. Without surprise, Lucas didn't approve, but likely desired even more to have the hunter out of the perimeter. By the time Fredricx had secured Lucas inside his own apartment, it was dark. The moon had replaced the sun as a pitiful light source, casting darkness and calling out beasts.

"Let's go," Fredricx demanded, shifting the gun's weight and fidgeting with the extra bullets in his pocket.

"I'll lead." With that, Adullam started the street. From the folds of his overcoat, he produced another pistol.

Fredricx followed after. His heart rate was elevated. Was he that far removed from combat? Obviously not, he had just disarmed Adullam with little trouble. Was it being in the streets on the night of the hunt? Sure, this was a first, but he had a Hunter's gun and the Hunter it belonged to to watch his back. It had to be Ettie as the source of his anxiety. She was possibly alone, and according to Adullam, she was in danger.

There was a tall figure approaching them, larger than any human. The figure didn't have a gait like a normal man, but was hulkling and laborious. As they grew closer to another and to niether man's surprise, the figure was not a man. Instead, it was terrifying. It was closer to a wolf than man, covered in fur and hunched over, and brandished a torch in one mitt and a sharp farming tool in the other. The beast's breathing could be heard from their position, still many yards away.

Adullam stopped, glanced backwards at Fredricx, and tilted his head to the right, signaling him. They ducked into the mouth of an alley, backs pressed against the side of a building. The beast drew closer, breathing louder and louder until it stopped level with them. Adullam had his sword drawn. The beast threw its head back, inhaling. It was searching for them, scanning the street. At once, the beast's eyes locked with Fredricx. Drawing to its full height, it raised its weapon. However, Adullam was faster. Like a shadow, the hunter was suddenly behind the beast. Delivering a swift blow, it fell, and Adullam's sword plunged through its chest. He used his boot on the creature's back, pushing it forward as the weapon slid out. Splattered with blood, Adullam was more concerned with shaking the red from his blade than his face.

"Let's keep going," Adullam urged. They did, stepping over the beast's mangled body.

As the continued, they encountered more beasts. However, they mostly dealt with them by waiting for them to pass by or by backtracking.

Some of the beasts were worse looking than others. Some still wore clothes, which Fredericx had recognized from the windows of shops. Some were human sized and others larger. All of them reeked of spoiled blood. The fur would be matted and patchy. Through the patchiness, jagged round scars would appear like measles.

Regardless of the night time, the city was not quiet. The beasts were incredibly loud as they would wail and scream at another. The people, hidden behind doors, were varying degrees of loud as they would sob, vomit, and pray. Fredricx and Adullam were far quieter in comparison.

As they descended a flight of stairs, Adullam halted, causing Fredricx to almost fall into him. "Back up," he hissed.

Fredricx attempted to peak around the corner. Sure enough, the beast in front of them was nothing short of just that. It was double the height of either of them and broader than a wagon with gray skin. Tattered clothes covered its body, and the creature wielded a brick from the Healing Church construction sight. The beast screamed something unintelligible and charged.

"Back up," Adullam swore again, "I can handle this."

Fredricx stayed, watching from the corner, as the creature swung it's brick. It narrowly missed Adullam, instead catching his coattails. These, too, seemed unharmed. He darted alongside the creature, slashing it with his sword. The creature hardly reacted, swinging again. Another slash from Adullam. Another swing, but this one was different. This one made contact with Adullam, who was casted to the ground with a thud and a grunt. The sword left his hand, spilled on the ground a couple of feet away. The Hunter rolled, staggering up to his feet and lunging. He was intercepted by the creature, who plowed a beefy shoulder into the Hunter.

Adullam was once again on the ground. He had obviously become disorientated by lulled eyes and limp response time.

Fredricx wasn't going to watch what was going to happen next. He wasn't going to watch Adullam's body being pulverized by this brick, which was supposed to become part of the Healing Church. In all likelihood, the brick would be recollected and used. Adullam's blood would forever become part of the Healing Church. His blood like the blood of many others was nothing, but a bolster for power.

Fredricx was not going to watch. Although he was not a Hunter, he was a soldier. Soldiers did not watch. They fought. The sword was farest away from Fredricx in comparison to the Hunter and beast. It was instead cast up against a wall. It wasn't lucky, but it could be worked with. There was no way to quietly slip past the beast, so Fredricx backpedalled the stairs and trailed along the iron fence in the direction of the Hunter's weapon. The beast was still wailing on Adullam, who had gotten further instead of closer to his weapon. In a feeble attempt, Adullam fired his gun several times, staggering the beast ever so slightly, but this wasn't enough.

Fredricx was now past the beast on his upper level and jumped over the fence. Within seconds, he made contact with the ground below. A pain shot up his knee, but Fredricx was more concerned with the beast. Managing not to get its attention, Fredricx scrambled for the weapon. Grabbing the handle, it was cold in his hand. It was different than any sword he had handled before. This weapon was designed to kill beasts, so Fredricx would.

XXXX

The hulking beast was still paying him little mind, choosing instead to focus on Adullam, who was now out of bullets and swearing. Fredricx walked forward with the sword in one hand and the gun in the other. He raised the firearm, leveled his shot with the beast's skull, and fired. The beast fell forward, striking a knee to the ground. Taking the opportunity, Fredricx rushed forward, using his momentum to thrust the sword almost blindly into the creature. It connected deeply. Fredricx gave a tug on the weapon to free it from the body, but to no avail. Instead, the creature, with the weapon lodged in its back, whipped around, now facing Fredricx. Panic started to rise up, but instead he chose a slow breath.

He dug around in his pocket, producing another of the bullets. Loading the gun quickly, he brought the pistol up and fired. It connected with its target, but still wasn't enough. The creature remained standing, choosing to rush at Fredricx in retaliation. Fredricx loaded the pistol again and fired. The bullet whizzed through through the air, stopping the charging creature. It, at once, fell over, collapsing a couple of feet from Fredricx. The impact send wind up, along with the stench of blood.

It wasn't finished as the creature moaned and fought to swing a fist at Fredricx. The fingers snatched up his leg, but Fredricx used the misfortune to his advantage. It hurt, but didn't distract him from loading the pistol. He could feel the mechanisms of the pistol were set, so he pulled back the hammer with his free hand. Attempting to pull him to the ground, the creature squeezed Fredricx's limb, which felt incredibly frail in its grasp. Firing, this bullet connected point blank with the beast. The sound was deafening, but the creature was dead, grip loosening.

Yanking his leg free, Fredricx limped around the creature and pulled the weapon from its back. Dark blood dripped from the blade's end. Adullam was finally to his feet, leaned up against the wall. The same one that Fredericx had descended from. The Hunter was breathing heavily, but unclipped a blood vile from his belt. It was exactly as Fredricx had seen countless times as it contained a glass cylinder of blood fitted inside a metal capsule, which was all attached to a painfully long needle. Without hesitation, Adullam struck himself in the thigh with the needle. The blood quickly drained inside of the Hunter, who immediately withdrew it and cast it onto the street. The glass shattered. However, Adullam was no longer panting, but stood up on his own. He unclipped another vile and repeated the process. His body seemed unnaturally unscathed from his encounter. The beast had connected its weapon with the hunter over and over, but Adullam seemed fine, giving his unfittingly wide smile, "You slayed your first beast, and not a kind one, Fredricx."

Fredricx nodded, offering a grin. Adullam gestured for his weapon, which Fredricx reluctantly agreed.. They started again through Yharham during a night of the hunt, but, at once, did not seem so ominous.

"You should become a hunter, Fredricx, and rid this city of this infestation," Adullam smirked, delivering a victory plow to the creature.

Blood buzzed around his body, adrenaline pouring through his veins. It was exhilarating. For once, Fredricx was in control of his destiny. Now, this destiny was to save Ettie.

XXXX


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The Church bells tolled in the distance. This loud bellowing echoed down the corridor Adullam and Fredricx were passing through. Animals, mostly canines, were locked up in cages outside. Some of them were still themselves, looking particularly frightfully, which came out in loud barks and growling. Others had also changed. They resembled their previous form, but larger in every way, especially in frame and teeth. These roared maliciously at the pair. Some of the cages had been opened. The creatures had to be around somewhere.

"Hopefully, we won't encounter any of these beasts for your sake," Adullam chuckled, "They are far less predictable."

Soon, they found themselves on the main street of Yharham. "Where are we going, Adullam? This is away from Old Yharham," Fredricx hissed, stepping in line with the Hunter, who strolled the streets like a rich man. Instead of a top hat, he wore a jagged, worn tricorn hat, the symbol of the Hunters. Instead of a decorative cane, he wielded a thin bladed sword. However, the cockiness was the same for both Adullam and the rich man.

"Trust me. This is a short cut."

They were walking straight up to the gates of the Healing Church. This gate was always opened during the day, welcoming the sick and allowing for a smooth flow of traffic through the crowded city. However, it was firmly shut now. This gate was never opened during a hunt, the Healing Church assured. It was a way to limit mobility of the beasts, they said.

From the folds of his overcoat, Adullam produced, of all things, a handkerchief. It was pinned together with an ornate emblem. At once, without warning, the gate began to tremble and creak. The sound was horrendous as old metal scrapped the rust of even older metal. The gate began slide open. Adullam waltzed through, leaving Fredricx, confused, on the other side.

"How?" he asked, cautiously following Adullam through the gate into the courtyard of the Healing Church.

Adullam, this time, physically pulled the gate closed. The Hunter merely shrugged with an one side of the face smile. "It was given to me by another Hunter," he offered dismissively, "You're practically a Yharhamite. You know the stories, strange happenings when the moon is large and low."

Adullam slaughtered some additional beasts without much effort, using his weapons almost gracefully. It was like a dance, consisting of sword slashing and stabbing and ducking and rolling as opposed to an actual dance. It wasn't much like a dance. Fredricx watched from a small distance. Their mangled bodies were just as grotesque dead or alive. Blood was the only difference. Blood was always the difference.

XXXX

"How would Father Gascoigne know what would go on during the Hunt?" Fredricx inquired of Adullam, who was splattering blood from his blade, casting small red drops on the ground.

"Gascoigne is a Hunter," Adullam shrugged, swiping up a blood vile from the body of a deceased Yharhamite. "Here," he called, tossing Fredricx the vile.

"I don't take blood," Fredricx spat back, clutching the glass in his hands.

"You should. If a beast attacks you, you will need it."

Fredricx repeated his claim.

Adullam shrugged, "Then save it for that friend of yours, Luke, was it? If he is still himself by the time that we return."

"It's Luc-," Fredricx stopped. His mouth fell open as they rounded the outside of one of the Healing Church's many mausoleums. "Queen's grace," he swore, letting out a breath. The vile fell from his hand. The solid piece turned into thousands, reflecting the towering flames that were swallowing Old Yharnam.

Fredricx's heart leapt, going from his center to throat to the base of his stomach. He took off in a sprint, clutching the Hunter's pistol into his hand until it hurt and gripped tighter still. Sure, Fredricx could hear Adullam's calls for him to stop, reasoning that he had a plan. There wasn't time for stopping, reasoning, or plans. There was time for sprinting.

Fredricx tore through Old Yharham, shouting for her, crying out for her. His sprinting exacerbated the shouting. The shouting exacerbated the sprinting. "Ettie," he wheezed, sucking up dark smoke through his nose. The smoke twisted his innards and watered his eyes, sending tears to stripe the soot on his skin.

Emotional soldiers are not soldiers at all. They are soon to be corpses. Emotions cause mistakes. At once, Fredricx snapped his spine straight. He was a decorated veteran, specifically known for level headedness in combat. Right now, Ettie didn't need a husband, but she needed a soldier.

The nearby houses and gardens were engulfed in flames, so Fredericx decided to hustle along the main road. The fire was still spreading, but he could be faster. The flames cracked houses and windows, causing caustic shattering and clattering. The pounding in his ears quieted, so that he could hear the screaming and roars of hunters and beasts respectively. A particular pair from above caught his attention. They were struggling on the roof of one of the manors. The hunter wielded a torch in one fist and flamboyant weapon in the other, striking the creature to no avail. The beast shrieked, slamming the Hunter to the railing. Flailing did little for him, however, as the beast lifted him up and over the railing. There was a futile struggle. The beast released its grip, and the Hunter fell.

Screaming with arms waving wildly, this did nothing for him as the warm body made contact with the ground. The thud was sickening, sending a wave through Fredricx's body. There was no more screaming from the Hunter. There was nothing from him at all.

The beast paid no mind to Fredericx on the ground below, but disappeared beyond view further inside the manor. Fredricx watched for a moment, but it didn't return. Satisfied, he went over to the Hunter, who was mangled and conjoined in ways not typical of living humans. His weapon, a thin sliver whip, was laid out on the ground closest to Fredricx. The links were coated in blood and bits of flesh and fur. Fredricx picked up the handle, which fit in his hand like he imagined an aristocrat's cane would. This would keep some distance between himself and any beast. He turned to continue his trekk, but stopped and backpedalled to the deceased Hunter. Fredricx flipped over the body, unbuckled his overcoat, and jerked it from the corpse. The leather was well worn, creased with action lines and had seen far better days, being speckled with unknown blood. Fredricx lifted it on to his frame, pulling the sleeves down his arms. The hem fell to his knees. He buckled the coat in the center of his chest. This would work far better to protect him from the flames than his sea stained, button down shirt. Eyeing the Hunter's hat, he swooped it into his hands before gingerly snapping it above his brow. The hat was black with tattered edges. This would do well.

XXXX

The smoke was bitter and hot. The streets, luckily, were filled with too much smoke and not enough flames. The flames raged on either sides, having caught up in their race to find Ettie. The manors and estates looked nothing like their former selves. This familiar place was no longer so.

Fredricx coughed vigorously as he ducked under the falling gate into an estate garden. Ettie spent most of her time here.

"Ettie," he shouted above the fire, "It's Fredricx." No response was given. He pocketed the gun in an effort to navigate the space. Fredricx entered a little further, now ascending the steps of the manor house. It was pitch black inside except where fire was starting to eat away at the far wall. "Ettie," he called again, coughing into a coat sleeve.

"Help!" A shrill voice resounded, growing closer and closer with each cry. This wasn't Ettie. At once, the body of this voice collided with him, sending the body backwards.

Fredricx caught the arm and pulled the body up. "Julie?" He remembered, surprised.

She screamed again, yanking free of his grasp, "Good Hunter, I'm so sorry. Please let me pass."

Fredricx shook his head and pulled off the hat, "Julie, it's me, Fredricx, Ettie's husband."

The fire crackled around them, wood creaked and threatened to topple the adjacent wall.

"Fredricx," she screeched, "Upstairs. She's trapped."

He didn't bother with allowing her to finish. Instead of caution, he leapt over the fire, raced up the stairs, and shouted. A scream was his reply. There were two figures, one small and huddled, doing the screaming. The other was large, resembling a man, but not one. The beast turned. Its face was morphed into an animal-like creature, but it still stood like a man. It brainished a club.

Fredricx choose the whip. Dropping the chain links from his fingers, he gripped the handle tightly. The beast turned, and Fredricx cracked his wrist, sending the shards flying. They connected with the creature. Fredricx jerked the chain links free and sent the whip to kiss the beast's torso. This time, the creature retaliated, lunging with its club. It made contact with Fredricx's abdomen. He groaned, jumping backwards and fighting the urge to vomit. Instead of pleasing his body, he forced himself straight, slashing the whip again. It tore through the beast's flesh. Fredricx yanked it free, which came with much resistance. For once, this resistance was to his advantage. The club was brought down again, but Fredricx was able to evade it.

Now between Ettie and the beast, he pulled free the pistol from the overcoat. Luckily, it was already loaded. Pulling back the hammer, he leveled the shot. The beast was less than a meter away, so the bullet easily penetrated its target, sending Fredricx's ears ringing and the beast to the ground.

He whipped around. Ettie was cowering on the floor. "Ettie," Fredricx spoke softly, scooping her onto her feet, "Can you walk? Let's go."

"Fredricx?" she shook underneath his grasp.

"It's me."

They made their way down the stairs and through the entry way. The garden was not of greenery but of red. The fire had spread as the gateway had toppled into flames. The moon was equally red, casting seemingly red shadows below.

Ettie was gripping his arm tightly, coughing and sputtering from the smoke. He tensed. His luck had run out.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Fire consumed the lot around them. The manor that Ettie had given countless hours was burning to the ground. It was as if all of her work was being undone.

This didn't matter, however. Fredricx had ventured out on the night of a Hunt. He had followed a Hunter into crumbling Old Yharham. He had braved flames and fought beasts as a mere human. He had found Ettie, who was by all accounts, well. Now, they were surrounded by flames. This was all for not.

"Fredricx," Ettie whimpered, "I'm scared." Her nails dug into his forearm. He could feel her fear create 10 fingernail sized gashes.

"We'll be okay," Fredricx attempted to soothe. The feeling of nausea recovered his body. His head spun, "Come on."

They started cautiously toward the gate. Maybe, they could just get to the street. However, the toppled gate was literally a dead end as one of the buildings had collapsed. The blaze was bright, casting light in all directions. This only revealed more ruin and flame.

Fredricx felt as if he was dragging Ettie behind him. Her fear made her heels sticky to the ground. They rounded the corner of the estate. Unfortunately, they confronted a brick fence. Fredricx could feel the queasiness growing in his bowels. A bolus rose up in his throat and threatened to be involuntary ejected. He let out a shaky breath, which was then followed by deep cough. The smoke was a hand around the throat.

"I'm going to lift you up the fence. See what you can." He holstered the pistol and draped the silver links over the wall. It would be easier to access.

Fredricx made a cup with his hands, Ettie stepped up, and he pushed her up until she could pull herself forward with her arms. His biceps shook as he continued to cough. Ettie seemed like a heavyweight against his arms. How could this be so?

"What do you see?" he grunted, shoulder grinding into the bricks. The Hunter's overcoat was saving him from nasty bruises.

"There's a beast. The fire isn't as nasty here. I think the fence is keeping it at bay," Ettie spit out quickly.

Fredricx, without warning, hoisted her up. She scooted off and dropped to the other side. It was now Fredricx's turn. His brain rattled around in his skull, making the wall quiver. Taking a couple of steps back, he sprinted and jumped. His fingers grasped the edges. It was sharp, but not as sharp as the flames would be hot. He yanked himself over the edge into a sitting position, surveying the scape.

The brick fence had stopped the spreading of the fire from the ground. However, looming trees and falling debris had sprouted small flames that grew faster than weeds. This was far safer aside from the darkness. Ettie said there was a beast. Fredricx couldn't see it.

He snatched up the whip into his hands, being sure to hold the last link, before plunging off the wall. The descent ascended his stomach. Nausea ensued upon landing.

"Stay close to me, Ettie," he commanded.

She responded by falling in line with him. They sulked along the far wall. Fredricx had reloaded the pistol, pulling out the last of the blood imbued bullets given to him by Adullam.

"Do you see the beast?"

"No," her voice was small, "Where are we going?"

"I don't know. We need to get back to Lucas. He isn't doing well."

The fire was beginning to light up the space. They were in a back garden. Ornate topiaries were being resculpted by flame. The water pool in the middle did nothing to subdue its enemy. Across the yard, Fredricx caught sight of his, the beast.

This creature was nothing short of a fairy tale. It was the biggest wolf with far bigger fangs. It was shaped strangely, its back legs unproportionally larger and longer than its front ones.

Just as Fredricx saw it, it saw them.

"Run."

They did.

XXXX

The werewolf pursued them, taking great strides with its long limbs. Fredricx and Ettie were as quick as a three-wheeled carriage in comparison. This, luckily, was bettered by the growing nausea. The mass came up and stayed suspended in his throat. Breathing became heaving. His jaw quivered, and excessive sweat was forming on his face and neck. They neared the corner of the far wall. The beast neared them. Attempting to choke out directions to Ettie, he shook to no avail.

Spasticity, he dropped the weapons and jerked up Ettie by the waist. She scrambled up and over the second wall, leaving Fredricx and the beast on the other side.

Fredricx dropped to the ground, scrounging on hands and knees for either the pistol or whip. He couldn't be quick enough as the creature was a meter, a lunge, away.

His fist wrapped around something sharp, the wrong side of the shards. This dug into his palm, but this was to be the least of his injuries if the beast got to him.

With the shard lounged in his hand, he gripped it tighter still and cracked the metal as hard as he could in the direction of the beast. The handle and shards connected, causing it to roar and thankfully, leap backwards.

Ettie was calling for him, but the nausea was preventing him from assuring her. In reality, he was the one who needed the reassurance.

He could feel the warm red sweating from between the cut skin and the end of the whip. The beads fell like a sprinkle of rain onto the ground. He made up the distance between himself and the werewolf beast and swung the whip again. The handle crashed into its torso, shards lodging themselves deep. He pulled, but it remained frozen into place. Neither party was pleased with this predicament.

Fredricx released the shard from his hand and was back to scrounging for the pistol. Its one bullet was better than his fists. His heartbeat was between his ears. Where was this weapon?

Thankfully, it was found before he could be malled. The cold metal was a heavenly feel. He steadied it in his hands, pulling back the hammer with a raw thumb. He took a breath and waited for the beast to advance. Of course, it did.

The distance was incredibly small already, but it wasn't close enough. Fredricx was looking for a less than a moment's window of opportunity. Anything outside this moment, he would die, but Ettie was safe. That is what mattered.

The beast lunged at him, claws and jaws open and extended. Its teeth were yellowed. The smell from the matted fur was horrendous, egging on the nausea.

A set of claws collided with with his shoulder. This was the moment. Boom. Fredricx pulled the trigger. The barrel of the gun was hard pressed into the cranium of the werewolf.

The beast came crashing down, pinning Fredricx to the ground. His skull made hard impact. Everything went black for a moment.

When his eyes flew open, he could no longer suppress the nausea. Vomit spewed from deep inside his body. The sweating intensified greatly, soaking his beard and hair. Pressed against the ground and the werewolf, he must have been the one on fire. The vomiting became coughing. The coughing became choking, aspirating on his injury.

Ettie was screaming. The ear ringing blocked out her specific words, but she was screaming.

He flailed his arms underneath the beast, attempting to get traction to sit up. If he could just sit up a little, then the content could be coughed out of his lungs. His dress shoes scraped the ground, legs desiring to throw off the beast. He was radically unsuccessful.

Vision growing dark, Fredricx gave one last attempt to dislodge the creature. Mustering up the leftover strength, which was strapped by the lack of oxygen, he rocked his body, pushing his limbs in one direction against the creature. It moved ever so slightly.

However, this was just enough for Fredricx to use his elbows to lift and turn his head. The contents expelled up and out of his mouth. The coughing continued for a few more seconds, heaving microparticles.

His head fell backwards, smacking the ground again. This time, he could breath. This was the sweetest breath he had ever taken. Oxygen swelled, expanding his lungs.

"Queen's grace," he sighed to himself, "Sweet queen's grace."

"Fredricx," Ettie was screaming, "Fredricx!"

"I'm alive," he wheezed. It wasn't very loud. He laid there, underneath the creature. The smell was enough to choke a man, but not Fredricx at this moment. He just inhaled and exhaled. After too many moments, he heaved, casting the beast aside a little more. Now, Fredricx was able worm his way out, scooting inches until he was free.

Standing, he surveyed the scene. The fire raged, encroaching the garden. The pistol was gone, but the whip was still available. He reached for the handle using his uninjured hand. It came free from the beast. He was free from the beast. He was free.

Author Note: Second chapter in one week! It's a record for me. Think of it as an apology for not updating previously for so long. Thank you for reviewing, Grocamol and VexEchoUmbra. You two are awesome. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The euphoria still consumed Fredricx. Sure, he probably had black bruises down one leg when he had fought the hulking troll beast alongside Adullam. Sure, he had sustained a heavy blow to the abdomen via club. Sure, he had finger nail gashes in one arm. Sure, he had blood running as a river from his fist from where he had grabbed the whip from the unfortunate end. Sure, he could feel the lacerations from the werewolf beast deep in his shoulder. Despite all of this, the feeling of confidence surpassed none. He was worthy of respect. He had accomplished something most humans died without attempting.

The injuries were nothing but an ache, nothing more than a hard day's work at the shipyard. Maybe, this would be different later, but at this moment, he would keep going until Ettie was tucked away from the Hunt.

Fredricx pulled himself up and over the brick fence. His shoes thudded with the cobblestone pathway. As soon has he landed, Ettie embraced him, slinging her arms around his torso. She squeezed, intensifying the ache. They kissed with such a fervor that their relationship was unaccustomed to.

After a moment, Ettie buried her head against his chest. "I was scared," she breathed, "I could hear all of the horrible sounds. Are you hurt?"

Fredricx shrugged against her frame. His injured hand likely made a pool of red against her blouse. "Let's get back to Lucas."

As if an actor on his cue, Adullam appeared again. His clothes were ladeled in gore, sword and torch in hand. His tricorn hat was pulled tightly over his face, mask pulled taunt over his mouth and nose. The now red splattered ruffles of his collar and deep red coat made him stand out among the other Hunters.

Ettie scurried behind Fredricx with a hand on his back.

"Fredricx, pal, is that you underneath that garb?" Adullam pulled down the his face covering. He was beaming, smiling. "Of course, the beard gives you away. Good news, Old Yharham has been cleared of beasts."

"Adullam." Fredricx nodded curtly.

Ettie flexed her vocal cords. "How do you know this Hunter?" she spat, tone filled with venom.

The Hunter choose not to notice. The sword was sheathed, and torch handed off to Fredricx, who accepted it with a tight brow. Instead, Adullam pulled off the gloves he was wearing, pocketing them. With untold gentlemanship and showmanship, he cupped both of Ettie's hands and brought them to his lips, "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Vinge. Fredricx must really care for you, taking on beasts for you. He isn't even a Hunter yet."

Stammering, she withdrew her limbs for herself, "What's your name, Hunter?"

"Adullam, my lady." The Hunter's voice was silky as he gave her a small bow, hinging at the waist. Adullam smiled up at her before straightening himself.

Ettie didn't seem impressed by this show. Her arms were knotted over her chest, mouth pulled to one side in a frown, "Adullam what?"

"Adullam the Hunter. That's all I am known by now," he wasn't smiling anymore, "Let's get back to your friend, Lewis. I have gift for him."

"Lucas."

XXXX

The adrenaline was fading. The throbbing set in. The nausea revisited him and wasn't going to leave this time.

They hadn't encountered any beasts yet. Fredricx would have liked to think he was ready for them. However, his steps were more like thuds. His blinks increased in duration along with yawning and head lulling. This tiredness threatened to topple him.

He stared at his shoes, willing his body inside those shoes to continue. For the first time, he noticed the swelling of his torso. His right side underneath his chest was distended. There was a growing mass. Fredricx stopped and used his palm to press against it. The swelling gave in to his touch at the cost of a light-headedness. Groaning, he fought the urge to vomit again, which was made difficult by dry heaving and jaw quivering. His eyes closed, and his person tipped a little too far to one side. The center of gravity was lost, and Fredricx fell. The whip fell from his fingertips, and the shards clapping with the earth.

Fredricx fell quickly, but Adullam's reflexes were quicker. The weapons in his hands clanged with the cobblestone street. He ducked below Fredricx's collapsing body and used his shoulder to bring them both up again.

"Thanks," Fredricx wheezed. The dizziness was like water sloshing, tipping his person in the direction of the slosh.

"We're going to Iosefka's Clinic. You need to be treated. Mrs. Vinge, carry those for me? I wouldn't normally ask a lady to branish two weapons, but we'll have to make an exception."

Ettie nodded, eyes wide. She collected them, one in each hand. The whip links drug along the ground like a child's toy.

Even with Adullam's help, Fredricx found himself stumbling about on nothing in particular. Was his eyes not communicating with his feet? This feeling was too familiar as if thrown into a stupor by far too much alcohol. However, this was much worse. At least with the drunkenness, there was a feeling of consciousness even if it was forgotten by the morning. Fredricx was losing himself. The drowsiness blackmailed him.

With its narrow streets, skylining factories, and massive Healing Church, Yharham, an expansive industrial city, seemed far more gigantic in those moments than it ever had before. Central Yharham was still too far.

Fredricx turned to his support. Adullam was speaking to him. Despite their physical closeness, he couldn't hear the Hunter, whose mouth continued to shape words. Ettie bounded alongside the pair. Now, her lips were moving as well. Fredricx tried to focus on her eyes, but they bounced around on her face. This caused his head to sling to one side, throat seizing and spewing bile.

Thankfully, this cleared his senses for a moment. Ettie was demanding, "We have to stop. Get him somewhere inside."

Adullam was instructing her to calm herself, "Iosefka will take care of him. He will be fine."

This clarity quickly faded. His intestines were playing a game of cat and mouse, but Fredricx was the one losing.

Specifically, Fredricx was losing his consciousness. The awareness of his mind and body were slipping. He might have been heading to Central Yharham. He might have been putting feet in front of another. He might have been have been vomiting blood and other substrate every couple of paces. How was he supposed to know?

He caught sight of the Yharham skyline, outlines of tall spires and factory chimneys. The white saucer moon was the last thing he saw before night ascended on him.

XXXX

Adullam could do little to keep Fredricx from falling. He could only intercede in keeping Fredricx's skull from kissing the pavement.

The Hunter hissed out vile words. "In the name of Kosm," he ended his string of swearing. He rubbed his forehead vigorously with his palm, shaking his head with a hardlined jaw.

"Now what?" Ettie inquired. Her shoulders quivered against her will, the pair of weapons shaking. Today hadn't gone at all as expected. Old Yharham, her only source of income, was reduced to shambles. She never imagined Fredricx fighting beasts, but he had and lived. At least, he was alive right now, but for how long? Regardless, they didn't have much to pay this Iosefka.

Adullam didn't bother to answer, but instead hoisted Fredricx's limp body into his arms. This was no small feat. Fredricx was not a small man. Years of construction, fighting as a soldier, and working in the shipyard had contributed to his size.

"Answer me, Hunter." Ettie didn't know she was angry until those words flew from her lips. Her face turned hot, but it didn't matter. "All of this is your fault."

She could see Adullam tense, turning to face her. The manners had disappeared. "How did you conclude that?" he spat at her.

"You burned Old Yharham. You and all of the other Hunters."

"The red moon hangs low, and beasts rule the streets. Were we left with no other choice, than to burn it all to cinders?"

She turned from the Hunter. The whip swung after her. She needed this Hunter's help right now, so she would bite her lip. Bite it until it bled if needed. "Lead the way," she grunted.

It wasn't long before they entered Central Yharham and were in the courtyard of Iosefka's clinic. The courtyard held more than the board of job postings, but also housed a small cemetery. The moon lit up the tombstones in a way that made them seem taller and livelier. She felt a pang of fear, but it wasn't for the tombstones or the beasts.

Adullam, still carting Fredricx, used his shoulder to thud the door. "Iosefka, it's me, Adullam. I have an injured Yharhamite."

There were small footsteps, the clicking of heels against wood flooring. Then, a small woman came to the glass. Her lips were stuck in a pout. Her hair was pulled back tightly out of her face. Stress lines wrinkled her face and clothes. She wore white as a doctor would, "Good Hunter, my doors do not open until the Hunt is over."

"This is Fredricx. He is a Yharhamite that killed beasts to save his wife. He lost consciousness on our route here. Iosefka, he's a good man."

"Remember that last Yharhamite you brought me, Good Hunter?"

Adullam nodded, "And I'm very sorry."

"I can't expose my patients to infection. Please, try to understand, Good Hunter." Her eyes were kind, but firm.

"Fredricx hasn't taken any blood in his life," Ettie pleaded, "I swear on my own life. He doesn't have the baffling sickness. He's just injured."

Iosefka's expression softened. She undid her gloved hands and pressed against her temple with her fingers. Sighing, she nodded, "Okay. Okay. I will treat him. Hunter Adullam, you will not enter my clinic. Do you understand?"

Adullam gave a wry smile, "Thank you, doctor."

Iosefka disappeared back into clinic, reappearing after many long moments with a wheelchair. She unlocked the door and opened it just enough to fit the wheelchair between door and its frame. Adullam lowered Fredricx into the chair. He was still undoubtedly unconscious with head lulled awkwardly to one side.

The Hunter turned to Ettie, sliding on his gloves again, "My sword."

She stepped away from him and allowed it to plummet from her fingertips. It clattered at his feet. Adullam bent for it and pulled out a pistol from his coat. Straightening, he made fierce eye contact with her, chest rising.

"You will depart from us, Good Hunter," Ettie ticked.

Iosefka tensed at the sight. "Go on, Hunter. I will pray for your safety, but you will leave my clinic."

Without another word, Adullam left, pulling closed the courtyard gate behind him.

"Come on in, dear," Iosefka smiled for the first time, "We'll get him taken care of."

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you so much," Ettie breathed.

The doctor pulled the wheelchair into the clinic, allowing passage for Ettie inside and locking the door behind them. They were in a small entry room. Dark, elaborate wood paneling scaled all of the walls. The floor was matched by equally expensive flooring. However, this entry room held far too many stairs for this wheelchair. "William, come in here, please. I need your help."

A man appeared from deeper inside the clinic. He was dressed as a typical Yharhamite. "Yes, doctor?"

"Take this man to one of the tables for me."

Willam did so with a groan. The limp body seemed easy for Adullam. This was a far more difficult task for William, who seemed would topple them both over to the floor. Both women followed after the man, who went past the first room. Shelves lined this first room, but they didn't hold very many books. Instead, there were vials, jars, and an assortment of medical tools. One of these tools was a sharraded saw. Hopefully, this wouldn't have to be used. Other patients were in this room. Most of them were attached to their bedsides by IVs, which were suspended by ornate metal structures.

The next room was essentially the same. Half ajar suitcases lined the walls. There were a handful of chairs in this room as well. They had belts attached to the arms and backs. Thankfully, no one was seated.

William stopped at the first vacant table and laid out Fredricx. Slipping back on her gloves, stained by use, Iosefka went to work, "Take the coat off, William." They managed together, freeing the leather from his uncooperative body. Then, using a pair of worn shears, she snipped his collared shirt bare. The doctor surveyed the scene. This abdomen was severely distended, pregnant with something. The claw marks in his shoulder were deep, bleeding.

"This mass," she prodded at his right side. She snatched up one of the tools, a scalpel, from the metal bowl beside the table. The scalpel was used lightly, slicing the swelling mass at the surface. It was as if she had pulled out a stopper on a barrell. Blood flooded out, running down his side and pooling on the table. Using a fragment of his shirt, she pressed it against the incision she had made. "He is bleeding out from the inside. He has lost a lot of blood."

Ettie's heart sank, falling down into her bowels. She could be the one to pass out now.

"I can minister blood." Iosefka's eyes met hers. They were steel. The kindness had been replaced, "I don't know if he will live otherwise."

Her heart raced. Fredricx was profusely sweating to the point his hair and beard were an abnormal shade. His skin was abnormally lackluster. Dark red bubbled up at the claw imprints. This was nothing compared to the cut Iosefka had made. Ettie let out a shaky breath. She could sob, "I don't know."

"You need to make a decision. Shall I minster blood? Do you want him to have a chance to live?"

"Yes, do it."

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	15. Chapter 15

Author Note: I have updated this chapter based on feedback I received. It is not longer, which I am sorry for. I am working on the next chapter. My too long hiatus was fueled by biochemistry.

Chapter 15

He regained self awareness slowly, blinking without seeing. The edge had been taken off the light headedness. As for the nausea, it wasn't much better.

"He's waking up." That was Ettie's voice filled with panic and relief.

A groan was what he could muster for her. How his body ached everywhere, especially his side and shoulder. What had happened? He was exhausted. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of old spokes on a carriage. His body felt like he had been hit by one, a carriage that is. How his body ached everywhere, especially his side and shoulder. What had happened? He blinked until he could start to see Ettie's fuzzy outline.

"How are you feeling?" she pestered him as he oriented himself.

The fuzziness started to dim. Her face was finally distinguishable. Her brown eyes were no longer swimming circles about her skull, but they were red. Old tear streaks interrupted dirt and soot on her cheeks. "Ettie," he croaked. Splinters must have covered the inside of his throat.

"How are you feeling?" she asked again. Her hand found his. Her touch was so warm.

"Where are we?"

"Iosefka's Clinic. Adullam convinced Iosefka to let us inside and to treat you." She gave a weak smile.

Fredricx shook his head against the pillow. He examined himself. The image became crisper as he stared. His shirt had been replaced with a single needle, an IV, which was attached to an overturned vial by some rubber tubing. He couldn't read the label from where he was. The red color inside the tubing should have gave it away, but it didn't.

Looking at Ettie, he waited for her blearly outline to disappear. She was disheveled, hair pulled in every direction except how she normally wanted it. "Where are we?" Fredricx asked for the first time.

Ettie's brow pulled tight as if by needle and string. Her lips parted without words, head titled. "Iosefka's Clinic. Adullam brought you here, remember? You fought those beasts in Old Yharham."

"What?" he retorted, squinting at Ettie. Fredricx caught sight of his torso. His shoulder was covered with white gauze as was his hand. Surveying himself, his whole midsection was wrapped thickly with a tumor on the right side. What happened? "Where are we?" he inquired. Ettie was out of focus. His eyes would not cooperate with him. Her fingers gripped his hand tightly.

"I'll be back, Fredricx," her voice was soft. She released her grip, stood, and exited the room.

His attention was caught by the needle tied firmly in the bend of his arm. Red from the vial was being emptied into his body. What happened? Two women appeared in the doorway. One was Ettie. The other wasn't. "Ettie, where are we?"

It wasn't Ettie who spoke, but the other woman. She wore white. Light colored hair twisted up out of her face. "Hello, Fredricx. My name is Doctor Iosefka. You and Ettie are in my clinic. Ettie is helping me take care of you. You are hurt, but will get better." Giving an empathetic smile, she approached where he was laying and took hold of his currently occupied elbow. "You were gravely injured, but Hunter Adullam brought you to me. You must have left quite the impression on him. I thought you were a Hunter with the coat you were wearing." She stopped inspecting his the elbow. "This still looks good. Your body is taking the blood well aside from the disorientation."

"Blood?" Fredricx asked, blinking up at her. The pair was no longer hazy aside from his normal unsightliness. His clarity had unveiled itself again. He lifted his stuck elbow. "You ministered blood to me?" he asked more clearly. His eyebrows were knotted, wrinkles creasing his forehead. Was he angry? He wasn't sure.

Iosefka touched his forearm with her finger tips. This wasn't part of her medical examination. It was far more maternal. "You would have passed from us, Fredricx. You are a powerful man. It would have been a loss for Yharham."

Ettie asked what he was thinking. "What do you mean?"

"He has already been more successful against the Scourge of the beasts than many beginning Hunters. Men and women become Hunters in my clinic, but don't see the Yharham sunrise again. You would be a respectable Hunter, Fredricx. Ettie told me that you were a soldier."

He nodded, "I was. Now, I'm not much of anything."

"How was it being out there for you?" Ettie asked. "That was the most frightened I've ever been."

"Exhilarating." He made eye contact with Iosefka. "Do you minister the Hunter blood?"

Her head shook, retracting her touch. "I am not a doctor for the Healing Church. I am my own. The Blood Minister gives the Old Blood."

"Where is the Blood Minister?" Fredricx asked. "I want to speak with him."

"I'll go get him," Iosefka offered. She turned and exited the room.

Ettie eyed him. "What are you thinking?"

Fredricx's jaw was set, face twisted into a frown. "I am thinking that I have no job, no where to live, no way to support my wife, and most of all, I have no respect. I can do this. You heard Iosefka."

"It's dangerous. What if you are killed?"

His head shook, "I took that risk before. I lived through both Boer wars."

"Would the risk be worth it?" she asked. Her eyes were sad.

"Ettie, the wage is one hundred gold pieces."

"A year?" she exclaimed loudly, but then, clasped her hand over her mouth.

"No," Fredricx replied, "Per hunt."

Her jaw came unhinged. She sputtered, "One-one hundred gold, gold, pieces for one night?"

There was a nod.

Ettie sat back in her chair with a hand on her forehead, mouth still open slightly. "Wow."

A new figure appeared in the room. A sharp inhale now shaded the room in the fragrant smell of alcohol and blood. Fredricx was learning that the second was far more intoxicating.

A man, sitting haunched over in a wheelchair, came over toward them, but not before bumping into the small table and knocking a basin of Iosefka's tools onto the ground. It was simply left as figure chuckled to himself.

The man wore a comically large hat and a grey stitched overcoat. His hair and beard were more toward white and was as wiry as could be. The man was no gentleman of the razor. This man's eyes were covered in fraying bandages. Small slits allowed for vision. His skin was essentially grey, but it could have been the room's lighting.

"Oh, yes," the Blood Minister began, waving his hands, "Paleblood. You've come to the right place. Yharnam is the home of blood ministration." He paused, wheeling a little closer. "You need only unravel its mystery. But, where's an outsider like yourself to begin? Easy, with a bit of Yharnam blood of your own." The Blood Minister answered his own question.

Fredricxon Vinge was an outsider as he was born in Claethorpes. This place was on the fringe of British Colonial rule, bending and breaking to the Queen's wishes, while Yharham was a prized gem in the Queen's crown. Economic growth for the rich, and sickness for the poor. Blood for all. It was as plentiful as alcohol.

Despite this, he did have the Yharham blood as he spent most of his life in Yharham. Regardless of its beast plague, this sick city was home. It might not have been if Fredricx and Ettie had the shilling, but it was home. The Blood Minister was right.

"But first," he started again. His voice was jaded. It was as if he had said this line over and over, "But first, you will need a contract."

Fredricx had no hesitation. He was ready. "What are your terms?"

XXXX

The Blood Minister snickered, pulling out a dingy scroll of brown tinged paper from his pocket. Unrolling it in his knobby fingers, he smiled, or at least, his expression was some sort of mixture between a smile and smirk. "The terms are simple. I minister unto you the Hunter Blood. In exchange for the blood, you will be indebted with blood."

Ettie threw up her hand, "Hold on, what? What does that mean?"

"The Hunter Blood is a precious commodity. In order to be reimbursed for the blood, we require blood. However, when the debt is paid, and the Hunt is over, you will be given one hundred gold pieces and released from the contract. Then, you would be free to sign additional contracts with no debt for higher rates of gold."

"How long does it take for the debt to be paid?" Fredricx asked. His eyelids creased together.

"Successful Hunters can repay their debt in one Hunt. It's been done before. If you pass during the Hunt, then your debt is released. Depending on how much of the debt has been paid before the death, a small sum of gold can be passed on to a beneficiary of your choosing. However, if adverse effects occur during the transfusion, the Healing Church is not responsible."

Fredricx nodded. This would give him respect, a job, a purpose. One hundred pieces of gold would afford them a fine house with equally fine food. "I'll do it. Where do I sign?"

The Blood Minister's smile widened, showing crooked teeth. Retrieving a fountain pen from a hidden pocket, he greedily handed them both over to Fredricx. The paper was coarse in his hands. The edges were imperfect, full of impressions and tears, but the words were handprinted almost perfectly. There was a long line toward the top, which the Minister promptly pointed out. "You write your name here," he explained, "Just an X will suffice if you-..."

Fredricx waved him away, veins twitching above his brow. He inhaled through his mouth, "I can write." He penned his name, Fredricxon Vinge, on the line. The Minister had no reply. Toward the end, he assigned Henrietta Vinge as his beneficiary. Hopefully, this wouldn't be needed, but at least this way, Ettie would have something. He would at least be worth something in his death.

"Your signature at the end," the Blood Minister urged. He was leaning forward, cranning to see the contract signed. His rancid breath filled the space, souring the paper.

Ettie placed a hand on Fredricx's forearm, above the needle. Her touch was soft. Fingers slightly coarse from night's events. "Are you sure?" she asked, "This isn't your only choice, Fredricx."

He nodded. "I am sure." With an inhale, Fredricx signed the Hunter's contract. His signature was deliberately slow and careful, but he wasn't reconsidering. He was sure.

"Good. All signed and sealed," the Blood Minister paused, "Now, let's begin the transfusion." He pushed himself over to one of the shelves lining the walls and pulled off a small wooden box into his lap. Opening the box revealed several small blood vials. He selected one haphazardly without regard its sharp end, wheeled back over to the bedside, and gripped Fredricx's closest arm. "Oh, don't you worry," he soothed, pressing another needle into Fredricx's skin.

It penetrated. A rush hit him at once. The wave of nausea returned. He could vomit again. Head falling forward, he caught Ettie's wide eyes. Her fingers squeezed him. "It'll be fine," he murmured as the room grew fuzzy around him once again until it was completely dark.

"Whatever happens," the Minister uttered, "You may think it all a mere bad dream."

XXXX


	16. Chapter 16

Author Note: The previous chapter has been updated. The gist of the changes is that the blood debt has now become subjective and vague. There is now no one million blood echo debt.

Chapter 16

Chuckling. Of all reactions, the Blood Minister chuckled. It was amused, but guttural, hacking centered on years of addiction. An addiction that he just bribed Fredricx into. Blood for gold. Blood for respect. Blood for fine things, a real home, a full pantry, fresh cuts of meat, fresh cuts of anything, silk dresses with full skirts, and Sunday hats with wide brims.

Anger was the emotion Ettie settled on. Useless, aristocratic daydreaming was just that. "What have you done?" she spat, feeling her body boil.

The chackling continued. The Blood Minister threw his head back, joints snapping and crackling in his old bones, and laughed. His hand waved her away dismissively with knobby fingers teetering.

"What did you do to Fredricx?" she continued, now rising to her feet. Her cheeks were hot.

"Woman," he began, "Woman, I merely did what was asked of me." The Blood Minister wheeled himself from the room, but not before slamming into another of Iosefka's side tables. Surgical tools, ladened bloodied with use, were cast to the floor.

She would pursue him. He wouldn't go far, not as if he could bound to the chair and eyes covered by criss-cross bandages. "Undo the transfusion," she demanded, stomping her feet as a petty child. She made up the distance between them, towering above the Minister in his wheelchair. Her fingernails, sooty from the night's events, snatched his coat into a tight fist. "Undo it."

There was a sickening noise behind her. Head whipping around, Ettie's brown eyes caught sight of Fredricx. His body was not still. Instead, he was thrashing wildly. Head colliding with the hard slab.

The anger quenched itself immediately. Instead, her heart cried, forcing air from her body and leaving a sensation of a frightened bird banging around on her insides. Her claws loosened as she lept toward him. "Help," she screamed so loud that it popped her own ears. Bells rung, but there were no bells.

Her palms went to Fredricx's head, attempting to still it. No, not enough. Foamy spittle formed at his lips, dampening his wavy beard. His eyes were open with small pupils that there focused on nothing. Her fingers tasted blood. His blood? Her blood? Regardless, it made her fingers slick and weak. Fredricx's thrashing twisted and crushed her hands between his skull and the unforgiving surface.

"Fredricx," she gasped, half screeching and half weeping, "Fredricx, please, no."

He would die. Dragging his unconscious body across Yharnam was not enough. It didn't matter. It was not enough. Luckily, it was never enough.

"Please," Ettie commanded. Her brow was pulled together so tightly that she thought she might lose it. The brow that is. The sanity was already gone. "No, no, no."

Ettie did not see Doctor Iosefka enter the room. However, Iosefka did. At once, there were arms pulling Ettie up by her elbow. She jerked around to see the Doctor, whose forehead was knitted with worry wrinkles. Her face was maternal, but her gloved grip was disciplinary. "We have to go."

"No." Her tone was on edge. Her jaw was defiant. The bird on her insides was no calmer that help had arrived.

"We have to get away."

Ettie tore her limb from Iosefka, glaring. "No." Her hand flexed, blood of unknown origin cascading down her fingers. Ettie could feel her thin, worn wedding band sliding off her momentarily loosened digits. It fell, kissing the floor and circling around the puddle. "Help him."

Iosefka wrenched Ettie's arm toward the door, who stumbled, smacking the ground with her joints. "We have to go. We are not safe here." The Doctor did not give her time to react or even think of a rebellious response as she dragged Ettie through the doorway into the next room. The door was slammed shut and locked from their side.

"There," Iosefka sighed, pushing loose tendrils of hair from her face. Her chest heaved, eyes dipping closed. "There," she repeated again, but this time, her voice was soft. Her posture was no longer pristine. "Ettie, let me explain."

"Why didn't you do anything?" Ettie was yelling. She reached for the lock of the door, but was intercepted again. "We have to help Fredricx."

The Doctor's fingers squeezed the panicking woman's, "Breathe. We were not safe."

Her nostrils expanded, "You didn't do anything for him. You are letting him die."

With a sharp inhale, Iosefka strangled each of Ettie's shoulders. It hurt. They made eye contact for the first time. "Ettie, once the Hunter blood is transfused, nothing will help a man. Fredricx will either live, die, or become a beast. It is out of my hands. We can only pray that Fredricx will emerge a Hunter."

Doctor Iosefka let go, and Ettie fell. She slumped over onto the floor, chest crushing her knees. She could cry. She would cry. She did cry.

Water clouded her vision as her hands locked and tugged at her own mop of hair. Her body trembled from an earthquake, but there was no earthquake.

Iosefka hugged her. The side of her face gingerly set against Ettie's heaving, twitching back. "Come, Ettie. Let me make you some tea."

A sob was all she could reply with. She pictured Fredricx from a few moments ago. His seizing and convulsing body, his blank eyes, the white drool drenching his face. The sound of the thrashing stuck with her, replaying itself over and over until Ettie would scream again at the Doctor.

This version of Fredricx was very different from their meeting years ago. Ettie had caught him, walking out of London's military headquarters. He was tall and handsome, dressed in his military garb with a sling over one arm. His face was clean shaven, hair cut short. This man had been smiling. They caught gazes by happenstance.

"I know you didn't want it to happen this way, Ettie," Iosefka sympathized, shattering Ettie's reminiscing. Her grip tightened, "I'm sorry."

"I don't know what to do," Ettie sighed. Swiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she replaced tears with a trail of blood. She sniffed.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

This time, the Doctor gently pulled Ettie to standing and led her down the corridor. It was long and lined with ornate, artisan panelling. Ettie was sat down on a bench and looked out of the comically large window on the wall across from her. She could see the roof of the lower story of the building. The moon was large, but had not yet fully descended on Yharnam.

"I have patients in these other rooms," she explained, "I can't risk exposing them to infection. I hope you understand. I'll be back." With that, Iosefka left her alone, and Ettie covered her still ringing ears, cradling her head in her palms. She was alone. What did she have without Fredricx? It was an unfortunate thing to be a widow in Yharnam. They never lived long if they didn't resort to remarriage or was no money to go back to her family in London.

Within a few minutes, Doctor Iosefka appeared in the hallway again. Brainshing a silver tray, she was walking it over to Ettie, who could see a tea kettle, two tea cups, steaming wash cloths, and a pile of bandages with a small pair of scissors.

For the first time, Doctor Iosefka screamed, turing pallid. Her mouth had been pulled into a sad smile until she say it. The tray slipped from her grip. Ettie watched as the tray petered against the ground, rocking all of its contents. The ceramic didn't last. The teacups had been converted to garbage. Steaming water spread across the floor, soaking into the rug. However, Ettie couldn't follow in the Doctor's likeness. A cry was choking her. Ettie shook. Pin pricks crawled over her whole body. The spastic, chest-dwelling bird was back.

Moments ago, the corridor's window had shattered. Glass sprayed the room like fine rain. With the shattering came a barrelling beast. The stench of blood from the beast was enough to make one light headed, regardless of the fear. It was chest height even on four legs. This wolf was no animal, but a beast. This wasn't the best part. It confronted them with sharp teeth, which were pulled taunted over slick gums, soaked red gums. It growled at them, at her.

XXXX

At once, another blur burst through the room. Another beast, she was sure. One for each of them. She didn't need to worry about widowhood. Her fate had already been decided.

However, this blur slammed on the back of the beast, grunting in a rather human way. The beast retaliated with a rear of its head and snap of its jaws. After landing or recovering, both parties rolled, springing to their feet or paws respectively. The blur was dressed in dark colors with flashes of royal red and white. A tricorn hat hugged the head, a mask pulled taunt around his face. Dark eyes caught hers and gave, of all things, a playful wink.

"Adullam," Ettie laughed, but it was sharp, shrill, and boarding on the edge of lunacy.

The Hunter didn't acknowledge her again, but instead, went about unsheathing a slender sword. It was long, thin. However, instead of turning the sword on the beast, Adullam turned on himself. The blade was quickly turned and brought down on his own person. The scribbles on the sword were lit up by the moon as he swiped the blade against the inside of his opposite bicep. Adullam didn't bother to flinch. There was a clean triangle of fabric missing from the jacket, but it looked as if it was purposefully missing.

Blood ran down the length of the weapon as the Hunter's mouthfold wrinkled. A smirk perhaps? Maybe, a cringe?

Next, like lightning, Adullam plunged the blade into the wolf beast's torso. The weapon and beast roared, causing Ettie's room to spin and ears to hear bells.

Surprisingly unphased, the blade was retracted and stabbed again. Adullam was caught by a revenge claw of the beast. This caused him to stumble backwards, but not to lose his momentum. With a breath, he shot up, lunging at the beast again. Blood matted the wolf's fur as sword penetrated flesh again.

This time, the beast was quicker. It pulled away, backing toward Iosefka and herself, with the weapon lodged in its skin.

There was another wrinkle of the fabric as Adullam produced a dagger. This one didn't sing or have the same ornate runes as the stuck weapon. It was plain, dull steel. The Hunter started to circle the beast in the narrow corridor. The beast returned the favor. After too many long moments, it was the wolf who sprang first.

Like a shadow, Adullam was suddenly on the beast's backside. The dagger was brought up and down, embedding itself into the neck of the monster. With his opposite hand, the sword was freed from its temporary fleshy sheath and returned again for good measure.

The corpse continued even though Adullam did not. It fell to the floor, skidding and not slowing until friction had got the best of it.

Huffing, the Hunter turned to them. The weapons were sheathed. The gloves were removed. The mask was pulled down from his lips. Yellowed teeth were showing as he smiled. "I trust you are uninjured," he stated to neither of them particularly.

Ettie nodded, mutely. Her body was still shaking despite her attempts to hug herself. She let out a choppy breath. Tension dissipated from her lungs, but not her muscles. Had she been holding her breath?

"Thank-Thank you, Good Hunter," Doctor Iosefka finally spoke with a quiver of her jaw. She did not meet his gaze. Instead, her head was respectfully dipped. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, Hunter Adullam."

He nodded back to her, giving a small bow. He shook the weapons free of the excessive red, spraying the floor and his pant legs with droplets. They were sheathed one at a time. "I see that your clinic is no longer safe, Doctor."

"Thanks to you, we are safe once more," the Doctor replied curtly, eyeing the beast at her feet.

"I would like you both to come with me. I want to move you ladies to a safer location."

Iosefka glanced over to Ettie. They met gazes. "You should go with Hunter Adullam."

Ettie's head shook. She started to stutter, "You should come too, then."

"No," she stated simply, "I will continue to look after my patients. They will not withstand the Hunt without my care." The Doctor returned her attention to the Hunter again, "May I stitch that arm of yours?"

"No," he countered, "It will be for not. As long as the moon hangs low, I will bleed until the streets are clear."

"I will stay too, then."

"No," they both said in unison.

"Come with me, Ettie," Adullam offered his hand, "Allow me to tuck you away from the night. Fredricx will need someone to return too."

There was another glance to Iosefka, who was nodding, "I think you should go. I will be fine as I always am." The motherly smile returned.

"But," Ettie attempted, but she had nothing more to say. "How?" she asked, but no more words came out. "Fredricx," she stammered, finally settling, "What about Fredricx?"

"Fredricx will be fine. Hunters are made to withstand the Hunt. I've seen more than my fair share," he snorted. "Will you come with me, Ettie?"

Hesitantly, she nodded. She would have liked to have seen Fredricx when he woke up, but that alone was no guarantee. After the beast, there was no telling if more would come crashing through. Hunters were in too short of a supply to post themselves to broken windows of clinics.

"Before you go, can you do anything about this mess?" Iosefka gestured to the corpse, which was crowding the hallway, bent in an unnatural way even for such a unnatural creature.

Adullam's head shook, "You expect so much of me, Doctor." However, he pulled back on the gloves and the mask.

It took entirely too long, but the beast was pushed back out the window and down the roof of the building. Adullam somehow performed this inhuman feat by himself, but not without leaving a bloodied trail all the way through.

"Let's go, Ettie," he huffed, stepping through the broken window onto the roof. "This night is only going to get worse."

She followed him, feeling the shingles unsteady under her feet.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 **Author Note: From this point, I am hoping to write longer chapters. I just wanted to get this one posted.**

A mere bad dream, that, that was an understatement. Fredricx could not bother to even lull his eyes open, consciousness grasping him by shreds. The clubbing and clawing he received strangled his torso. There was no adrenaline to dull his wounds. Instead of exhilaration, estrangement to his own appendages and organs.

A rumble resounded. It bumped and muddied the throbbing. One eye twitched open as the rumbling became less geographical and more animalistic. The whole room was bleary. Fredricx stared up at the metal spider hanging from the ceiling. Blinking with two eyes transformed the spider into a chandelier, and the chandelier growled at him. The mental muck threatened his awareness again.

Never in Fredricx's life did he hear a chandelier growl. His head pivoted, eyes reluctantly following. Crimson stained the floor, reaching toward him. From the blood, came a wolf beast. It was ragged with floor matching fur and perally bone teeth and claws. Yellow, crescent eyes met his. Its jaws snapped as easily as rubber. Saliva dripped. Claws reached. The dagger tip would pierce his flesh.

Fredricx's muscles protested movement. He was left immobilized. By, what? He was not sure.

The growling turned into shrieking as the creature lit fire. The flame cast it up, filling the room with smoke and stench. The beast fell, but not before flailing wildly, threatening to take a victim with it. Fredricx's eyes fell to the doorway. The source of flame had disappeared.

Clearly, he could not remain here. Where was here? Where was Lucas or Ettie? Where was Ettie? His chest twinged, muscles agreeing to clench, but still not allowing full body, logical movement.

Oh, how his abdomen hurt. Letting out a breath through his mouth, he went to swing his legs onto the floor. Nothing cooperated. He found himself eyeing his shoes, shined from the night's events. A weight clung to his pant leg, wrinkling the material to one side. Small fingers hoisted themselves upward. This was followed by another set of fingers and then a skull. A small bony creature, a skeleton, crept toward him. There was another on the opposite leg. Then, yet another at his waist. They hissed, and their bones cracked as their pointed teeth threatened him.

Fredricx slung his head back in attempt to dislodge them, but instead, collided with the unforgiving surface. He saw unnatural colors, small dots coloring his vision. The dots were not the only thing muddling his line of sight. These small, white eyed beasts swallowed him. Their nimble fingers reaching for his face, grasping his beard and smearing his skin.

The shreds of consciousness disappeared altogether.

"Ahh, you've found yourself a hunter," hummed a soft voice.

XXXX

Fredricx found his humanity again. Blinking, he yawned, smacking his lips and scratching his beard. He located the spider chandelier and flinched. His neck swiveled rapidly. His muscles braced themselves. He readied himself for the wolf beast, the skeleton creatures, and for the pain from his discombobulated insides. None of it came. The corpse of the beast was even missing. Although, the pond of blood in the middle of the room remained.

He willed himself up to sitting. Light-headedness swooshed about his person. Blinking, he eyed his bare torso. The claw prints, swollen and angry, were reduced to iridescent scars. The inflated side below his ribcage was returned to its usual self. Bowels no longer cursed his movement. In fact, there was no nausea.

"Ettie," he croaked. Throat tight. "Ettie, where are you?"

Silence was the only response. He plopped down onto the floor, sending a ripple through the puddle. Small droplets colored his pants. Sloshing through the blood toward the closed door, his shoe caught something, throwing Fredricx off balance for a moment.

He hinged at the waist, scrapping abrasive floor before plucking up a small circle in his fingers. It was a ring, dripping with red. He eyed his ring finger. Fredricx's band had been pawned off long ago to settle a foolish debt.

Fredricx eyed it. The ring was small and made of yellow gold. A small stone was pressed into one side. Scratches and scum coated the outside. This was Ettie's. Inhaling unsteadily, he slipped it on his smallest finger. It was a little loose, but he would not lose it.

He went to let himself through the next door, but he found it locked, so Fredricx decided to try knocking. Within moments, there was a faint clicking of heels on the other side.

"Doctor, where is Ettie?" Fredricx asked, failing to keep his tone level.

"Oh, well, hello," a feminine voice soothed.

"Where is my wife?"

Doctor Iosefka did not respond for long moments. "I might be trapped here, but I should do something to help. You're soon off to hunt, I presume? When you find your Ettie or any survivors, tell them to seek Iosefka's my Hippocratic oath, if they are yet human, I will look after them, perhaps even cure them. This sickness, these beasts, they are not to be feared. This time the night is long. I'll even offer a reward for your cooperation. Tempted?"

"She was here with you!" Fredricx could not be stoic, "Where did she go?"

"Hunter, I have been here all night. I have all my patients accounted for, but if you find anyone who's still human, send them straight to Iosefka clinic. You can assure them, there's no place safer. I'll even look after your wife if you send her to me. Please do me this service."

"Where did she go?" he growled, fists curled. They made contact with the door, which shook on its hinges. He inhaled a choppy breath. A vein above his eyebrow tweaked itself into a hostile headache.

There was an angry stomp from the other side, which was joined by an exacerbated huff, "Ahh! Can't anyone comprehend? That'll be quite enough of you, then. Isn't it time someone put you out of your misery?"

With a final blow to the door with a fist, Fredricx turned away. The heels exited themselves further into the building.

He glanced at Ettie's ring. This did not give him the comfort he sought. This was far worse than before. She could be anywhere in this beast crawling, Hunter butchering, and disease spreading city.

Before having to tear himself from the room, Fredricx spotted a note. It sat on top of a pile of clothes across from the treatment table. He grasped it with a twange of hope that it might be from her.

"Fred,

Thought these might be of use.

-Adullam"

The pile contained a collared shirt, the coat he had collected from the deceased Hunter, the whip, which use to have the same owner, and of all things, a box of matches.

Fredricx dressed. The starchy fabric stiffened his posture. He tucked the shirt as per habit. The coat slid on, and he tightened the buckle about his chest. Matches were pocketed. The leather creaked as he jerked up the whip, red and still covered in fur tufts.

He would turn Yharham over if needed.

XXXX

He thrusted the clinic doors open. The orante wallpaper was crackled and splattered. There were suitcases turned over, their contents splayed out.

Fredricx descended the stairs and into another room. Tables, chairs, and bookcases crowded inside. It was dark aside from a window that allowed moon rays to cast shadows. However, Fredricx did not feel phased.

More stairs and into the next room, he went. This mimicked where he had woken from. Treatment tables were paired with IV drips. Unfortunately, the mimicry was down to the pool of blood. An particularly unbeastly body floated in the red. However, that was not the only addition to the room. There was a beast. Yet another werewolf, why did it always have to be werewolves? There was no pistol this time. He was equipped with the metal whip and his anger. Hopefully, this Hunter blood would be useful. Hopefully, it did more than correct his nearsightedness.

The Queen or the Healing Church or whatever must have looked out for him in that moment because the beast was turned away from him. Gripping each end in his hands, he stalked behind the creature, praying that the floor would not betray him. Fredricx did not dare to break eye contact with its neck as he hoisted himself up on one of the tables. The draped fabric scooted underneath his feet, causing a sharp inhale. The wolf's ear twitched.

Fredricx jumped. His body slammed into that of the beast's. The whip was hooked around the neck of the creature. It was his intentions to strangle it. This worked for a few moments with the wolf writhing underneath him and whip burying itself deep into its flesh. The jaws snapped wildly at him, growling and spittling on his face.

The beast was willed, bucking him to the side. Fredricx could not compete with the front end, especially half-pressed into the ground, so he released his grip. He rolled, wallowing in the liquid, as the wolf reached with its knife sized claws. Scrambling to his knees, he ducked underneath one of the treatment slabs and stood. He brought the whip up and down, slamming it across the table. The end made contact with the beast, but this only agitated it.

Roaring, the beast lurched to one side, attempting to come face to face with the Hunter. Fredricx refused it the pleasure, and ducked around to the opposite side. They danced like this a few more times as Fredricx rolled over options in his head. On the final merry-go-round, Fredricx abandoned the whip in favor of the metallic IV drip. It was not as heavy as he expected, but it would have to do. He used the vial end to smash the glass into the beast. The material shattered into its skin, and Fredricx dug it in before wrenching it out. This was only appreciated by one of the pair.

This trick only worked once more, but with the second time, it came with revenge. An imprecise blow to the beast's shoulder rewarded him with jaws. They clamped into his forearm, causing him to lose the medical weapon. The noise from the snapping was enough to make Fredricx dread the aftermath. They locked eyes. The creatures teeth firmly dug past his coat into flesh. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

However, also staring back at him was a gaping wound on the creature's chest. It was profusely spraying blood, the underneath muscles twitching. No bones blocked Fredricx's path. He used his unchomped arm. Winding back his elbow as far as the beast would allow, Fredricx rammed his hand into its torso. He grabbed onto something soft and tore it out.

One fell, so the other fell.

Grunting and huffing, Fredricx swore. The impact caused the teeth to shudder around his appendage. Dropping the beast's insides, he used the hand to lift the jaws of the creature. The removal was just as painful as the insertion. He wrangled the top set of teeth free from his arm and drug out the bottom set in a fashion that was not so clean. Relief was the emotion he settled on, rolling over on his back. The wolf and Hunter lied together in the broken floorboards of crimson, close enough to mistake it for intimacy.

Time passed. An unknown amount of time passed. Eventually, Fredricx staggered to his feet, feeling blood drip from his whole backside. His hair was even drenched. He did not think much of it belonged to him except what was streaming from his forearm. The whip was found, and the heart was left abandoned.

He stumbled into the next room, but not before assuring that the beast would truly not come for him again. Thankfully, the entryway hid no beasts. How powerful would a whip be in the non dominant hand, especially with the other tucked close to his chest like an injured animal? Thankfully, his only company was another corpse, which he never thought himself to be thankful for before. His eyes caught the glint of glass and snooped toward the body. Hanging from the deceased person's waist band were two blood vials.

Dark liquid sloshed around on the inside. The dull needle attached was definitely not fresh from the factory floor. Fredricx unclipped them, palming them both. He needed these. He needed them now. No, he would not become a beast. He had to do without. However, he could not continue as a crippled bird. He would never survive the Hunt. He would never find Ettie in his current state. Use them. Who knows what they would do? Ettie's safety, not Fredricx's sanity was what mattered.

He lined one of them up with his thigh and plunged it in. It hurt, but the draining of liquid was deliriously delicious. The edge was taken from his arm. Claw marks visibly fading as he gawked. Sure, it was not perfect, but he had two useful arms again. He clipped the remaining vial on the buckle of his coat.

He exited the clinic into a small cemetery. He confused shadows for beasts entirely too many times as he made his way through the wrought iron gate into Central Yharham. He surveyed the city. Spires and factor chimneys crowded out the sky. The moon was behind it all. The moon welcomed him into the night. The moon welcomed the Hunter to the Hunt.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 **Author Note: Thank you for reviewing. Also, I realized I have been spelling "Yharnam" inconsistently... "Yharham" "Yharnham"...**

 _"_ _And the cedar of the house within was carved with knops and open flowers: all was cedar; there was no stone seen." -Book of the Healing Church 6:18_

As beautiful as the rat crawling, disease spreading, and human waste gathering city was, Yharnam on the night of a Hunt was far more so. The moon colored the world differently than the sun. Most of all, the stench was overwhelming.

Immediately to his side, the street was lined with carriages. A desperate or more likely foolish attempt to escape the Hunt. This aroma was more than figurative. The horses attached remained. It was far enough into the night that they no longer neighed nervously or bucked furiously.

They were dead. Ribs and bowels visible. Flies were having their hayday.

Fredricx's nose twitched. He moved past them toward his destination. Rounding the corner of the street and carriage, he faced the back of a man. He was tall, abnormally tall, with a hat that covered straggly hair. One hand held a torch, while the other dragged along steel.

"Sir?" Fredricx asked.

He turned. This was no sir. Pale skin with protruding eyes gave it away. It was once a sir, but now was a beast. Bewildered, it charged with weapon waving wildly. This was a beast, but that did not grant it skill. Fredricx was a soldier. Soldiers had skill.

The Hunter sidestepped. The metal whip was not effective at close range. He brought it behind him before swinging. The shards found their target. The beast screamed in a rather man way, but this did not stop Fredricx from ripping free the shards. It was brought across the creature again and brought out with vengeance.

He was not the only one with vengeance. The beast retaliated. Thrusting its torch at Fredricx, the beast shouted. The words were intelligible, "Die!"

Fredricx thought he might. The flames were hot. Breathing sharply, his skin crawled from the heat. He counted himself lucky this next time as the hatchet came down on him. It kissed the top of his shoulder. He hissed and jabbed an elbow toward the creature. It stumbled backwards, and Fredricx brought the whip across again and again until the creature fell. Then, it was brought again and again.

The hatchet was left ownerless a few feet away. It could not be left lonely. He snatched up the handle, which was slick with blood. It was useless, dull from a combination of use and age. It dropped, even making a dull noise against the stone.

He needed to continue. However, the gate toward the heart of the city was clamped to the earth. After failing to jerk it free, he huffed to himself before turning the opposite way down the cobblestone street.

Fredricx would not allow himself to be tricked again by a beast. No humans were out in the Hunt with the exception of possibly Ettie. However, he prayed to no force in particular that she was somehow tucked behind incense in Lucas's apartment.

A beast man sat with its head ducked between its knees a few meters away. Its breathing was heard above all else. Fredricx was surprised by its incompetence as he slunk behind it. Resorting to the whip, he strangled the beast with the shards. It thrashed against him, arms flailing. Weapon moving with it. Gurgled sounds erupted from its throat. These cries were quickly silenced. Once dead weight in Fredricx's arms, he released the beast.

This had not prepared him for the other beast man, which delivered a swift blow with a club. He saw small rainbows clouding his vision as he buckled. His head throbbed rampantly. Eyes squeezed shut. He was rewarded with another strike to the cranium as Fredricx scraped together his sense.

He had lost his weapon on the way down. Blinking away darkness, he scrounged the ground for it. Thankfully, it had not been far. He grabbed the handle and struck the whip behind him, slinging his shoulder up and around. There was no follow through with it. He turned his head slightly to see that the beast had passed, punctured through with his weapon, which was no longer made up of flaccid links.

His blows were more detrimental than he imagined. He released the steel and collapsed forward on his knees, head supported by his forearms. Dizziness attacked him as the feeling of blood gathered in his skull. The lifeless beast plopped behind him.

Fredricx eyed his torso. The coat was deeply worn. Evidenced by nicks and tears. All of these had been stitched up with poor craftsmanship. He caught sight of the buckle at his chest, and hanging from the buckle, the blood vial.

Fredricx sighed, partly from the discomfort of moving and partly from hopeful relief. Shaky hands unclipped the vial. He stabbed it blindly into the side of his thigh. It hurt far less than his skull. Warm blood drained into his body, providing comfort as it circulated. It released cranial pressure. The colorful dots retreated to the fringes from his vision and then completely disappeared.

Once Fredricx's breaths had slowed from ragged animal to hard day's labor, he stood, but not before picking up his weapon again. He had not been hit too hard. At least, not hard enough that he illusioned the weapon's change. The handle was the same, fitting smoothly in his palm. Regardless, the shards were now locked together with almost no space between them. It was not a sword as there was no blade. In fact, it was more of a cane.

XXXX

He yanked the lever, causing internal mechanics to slide down the ladder toward him. The rattling came to a halt as it collided with the ground. Fredricx did not usually commute through the city via ladder. These were reserved for chimney sweeps, orphan children, and thieves. Shiphands did not get the privilege.

Fredricx hoped Ettie was with Lucas. She would be sitting with their quilt pulled up to her neck. Lucas would be complaining about the shipyard in between fits of coughing. They would be protected by the incense that Adullam had gifted him. That event almost seemed years ago. Instead, it had been what? A mere few hours.

The top revealed a waist high lantern. It was polished silver with the glass cavity left unlit. Surely, this was useless. Far more illogical was the placement as it would definitely impede foot traffic.

He thought to Adullam's note and pile of objects that had mostly belonged to Fredricx. His whip, cane, or whatever it was, his coat, a fresh shirt, and a box of matches. Matches were not weapons, a torch perhaps. Not seeing any harm, he struck the match and lit the lantern.

He waited for a moment as if something were going to happen. There was just rustling from behind the glowing window on the wall behind him.

He did not have time to bother with ill advised lanterns. However, Fredricx's resolve to continue was crumpled by a snag at his pant leg. A familiar set of fingers grasped at him. The fingers belonged to the handful of the skeleton beasts that had tugged at his skin, while he lay immobilized at the Clinic.

With a twinge in his chest, he pulled his leg free and stomped down on the creature. A gasp emitted from the other beasts as they shrank away, disappearing into the street. Confusion was what he decided on.

Fredricx shook his head. This blood was causing him to hallucinate. Beasts that laid out as corpses once defeated, that made sense. Beasts that recoiled into the ground without a trace, that was a symptom of the blood.

Faced with another closed gate, he descended the few stairs and through the winding city. His path was blocked by crates and sacks of various sizes. This was far less effective beast protection than incense.

He went to leap over them, but was intercepted by an ax. Bursting forth, the beast struck Fredricx directly at the base of the neck. He gave a backhanded swing with the cane as he descended, making harsh contact with the stone. He squeezed the injury with his opposite palm, feeling red seep through his fingers and past his collar. Coughing and sputtering, he struck the creature with the point of the cane, spearing it through its middle. It peeled itself away, knocking away the Hunter's weapon. The ax came down again. Fredricx was not ready, but at least, he was expecting it.

Instead of allowing the ax to come in contact with him again, he snatched the beast man's wrist. He released the grip on his neck for a moment, triggering a river of crimson. It was just long enough for him to wrestle the steel away. Fredricx returned the favor, embedding the ax in the chest of the beast. It teetered for a moment before falling backwards into the crates, screaming and flailing.

He pressed both hands into his neck with so much force that Fredricx thought to bruise himself if he did not bleed out first. Gritting and baring teeth, he struggled up. This was war. No, it was far worse. Every encounter was a brush with a monster. Every encounter was with an actual, nonfigurative monster.

Not bothering to even stand, he drug his uncooperative torso to the beast. It was still alive, but he did not care.

"Give me the blood," he demanded through whooping. A blank stare was the response. He thieved the shirt and pants pockets. Fredricx must have been unlucky or untalented as a thief because he found nothing. He swatted away the beast's hand before using one of the crates to propel himself upward. He internally debated on leaving the cane as the energy expenditure cost would be too high. Reluctantly, he stooped over. He would throw up. He did. He expelled red, so much red.

Sighing, he straightened. One hand brandished the cane, and the other was clammily clamped against his injury. Sweat and blood dampened his person. Get to Lucas's apartment in the slums past the Healing Church Cathedral. Ettie would be there, curled into her quilt. Lucas would be there, complaining. They would be safe.

Stumbling would have been a kind word to describe Fredricx's gait. More turns and twists through Yharnam revealed nothing helpful except another pair of beasts. One's face was covered in fur. With torch and shield, it leaned against hip height railing. The other was dressed in clothes that Fredricx recognized from the factory workers.

They approached him. The Hunter wished the cane into a whip. Wishing was not enough. He reversed. They advanced. Judgement clouded by blood loss, he dashed between them to attack their backsides. The dash was either too far or not far enough because he rammed the railing. He lurched forward before the overcompensation sent him tumbling backward. Tipping too far, he fell, feet being swept up and out. The landing faded his world from view.

XXXX

The world appeared again before him. He flinched, tensing muscles for the worse. It did not come. Blinking, the fuzziness disappeared. Remembering the ax, his arms wrestled underneath him to cover his neck, which was a little moist at worst. The panic suppressed itself for a moment.

Instead of beasts, Fredricx saw bricks and flowers. Flowers? He blinked again and again. The white blossoms remained. A small house sat on top of a few stairs. Tombstones lined the fences around him. The moon wrapped it all.

At the base of the stairs, there was a pallid woman staring back at him with a tilted head and calm expression.

He stood.

She bowed slightly, "Welcome home, Good Hunter."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 _"_ _Does not wisdom call? Does not understanding raise her voice? She takes her stand on the top of the hill beside the way, where the paths meet."_

 _-Book of the Healing Church 8:1-2_

Sore was an understatement. Achiness enveloped his person, especially squeezing his former injuries. His forearm, which was once embedded with teeth, lacked even the faintest scars.

Fredricx let out an uneasy breath before observing his surroundings again. Stone stairs led up to a brick and wood house. The house was yarded by pinprick snow flowers and aged tombstones. Some of these had not aged well. In fact, most were cracked all the way through, but kept together by grime.

The woman still stared at him with cream colored eyes. She was dressed whimsically unlike a working woman in dirtied, starchy clothes or unlike an aristocratic woman in ruffles and pettiskirts.

Instead, she was adorned in a dark ankle length dress with modest boots. Her gray hair was tucked into a Sunday bonnet, and slender palms were concealed by a touch of lace.

"Good Hunter," she repeated, soft lips barely moving with the words.

Fredricx gave a sideward glance as if to catch the eye of another. However, he only caught sight of the cane instead. He was the Hunter. A halfway grin crackled his lips as he reached for the cane. It already felt familiar in his palm.

He used the other hand to smooth out his mangle of coarse hair. "Good evening, ma'am," he breathed as he approached her.

"Hello, Good Hunter. I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you," her voice was smooth.

"Dream?" Fredricx rebuttaled, "What do you mean?"

"Did you speak with Gehrman? He was a Hunter long, long ago, but now serves only to advise them. He is obscure, unseen in the dreaming world. Still, he stays here, in the dream such is his purpose."

He shook his head, "I need to find my wife, Ettie. Which way is Central Yharnam?"

"Good Hunter, since this is a dream, you need to awaken. Locate your headstone and return. May you find your worth in the waking world."

His eyebrows pulled taunt. The blood vessel twinged. Sighing, he repeated, "Tell me how to get to Central Yharnam."

"Good Hunter, since this is a dream, you need to awaken. Locate your headstone and return. May you find your worth in the waking world."

Fredricx's grip tightened around the cane. He forcibly chose to still it against his carnal desires. Huffing, he attempted to still himself with little success. "Woman, do not speak cryptically with me. My wife's life is in danger." Fredricx could feel his insides tighten. His jaw was set tight.

Her head tilted to one side, expression lacking any particular conviction. With hands clasped together, she started to speak again, "Good Hunter-"

He could not hear this riddle again. She would do nothing, but waste his valuable time. Fredricx allowed his feet to pick a direction. Passing the headstones, he tore through the garden. He gave no kindness to the landscaping as he stomped through the plants, which shriveled underneath.

At once, Fredricx found himself at an edge. A small wrought iron fence made all of the difference. The moon suspended itself in the sky, but that was the end of the earthliness. White fog or clouds or something spanned the distance as far as the eye could see. From the white, pillars of solid dark. Eyebrows scrunched tight. Where was he? Where was here?

He surveyed the scene again. There was white, endless white sky with seemingly nothing below them. This was not Yharnam.

Fredricx turned, attempting to dislodge his attention from the fantastical imagery. Stranger events had occurred already. For starters, his nearsightedness had been cured with miraculous blood. The blood vials were plentiful and powerful enough to fade away gaping wounds. What had the woman said? Perhaps, she was being forthright with him.

He made his way through the garden and back to the woman. She stood perfectly still. It was almost eerie. Her cream eyes watched Fredricx as he gave a slight bow, which was graciously returned. "I apologize for how I spoke earlier. How do I get to Central Yharnam?"

"Good Hunter, since this is a dream, you need to awaken. Locate your headstone and return. May you find your worth in the waking world."

How could Fredricx have a headstone? He reconsidered his personage again. He was not a religious person, but this did not quite seem like the afterlife. The Healing Church promised something about gates of pearls. However, this also did not seem like the eternal punishment for the unrighteous. "Where am I?" he asked her.

"We are in this dream, Good Hunter."

Although this did nothing to alleviate his question, he inclined his head respectfully. Fredricx glanced over the many headstones, searching for, of all things, his name. There were no dates engraved on any of the stones. They even lacked years.

Helewys Brickenden

Allister Fletcher

Dayton Gregory

Ada Rolfe

Fredricxon Vinge

A chill spanned his body. Bumps involuntarily raised hairs. The headstone was new, shined with fresh lettering. It did not carry dirt and cracks like the others. Worst of all, he felt a sort of calling to it. Fredricx knelt in front and ran his fingers over the letters. His eyes closed on their own.

XXXX

When he blinked again, Fredricx found himself by the lantern he had lit near the ladder. His head shook as he let out a dismissive deep breath. Surely, he had just been rendered unconscious, hallucinated the dream ordeal, and woke here. That did not explain his presence at the lantern. Surely, he had stumbled back here after his fall in order to escape the beasts. Surely, that was correct.

As if on cue, the small skeletons waited for him, grasping at his clothes. The unconsciousness was not the only reason for his hallucinating. As he raised his shoe to dismiss them, they let out an audible cry before shrinking away. At least, his hallucination was learning, and he started the way he had already been.

Fredricx wondered how much time had passed. How long had he been fainted on the chimney sweep access? How had someone not come by and end him? Regardless, he needed to find Ettie and Lucas in his apartment. Ettie would greet him with angry, but relieved eyes. She would probably leap from her seat, quilt falling to the floor in a heap. She would swat him in anger before embracing him. Fredricx would smell the lye soap on her collar. Lucas would be smirking, shaking his head and commenting that he would have to pay a woman to hug him with such fervor. He would cough with small spots of red embedding into his sleeves. They would wait out the Hunt. Fredricx would pay his blood debt and emerge a wealthy man. There would be enough gold to move to London. Good-bye, Yharnam. Farwell, rotten city with its rotten shipyard and rotten people.

There were new corpses on his route. Ashamedly, he dug around their pockets. Finding paper scraps to pence, he decided to keep the coin. It was not as if they required it any longer. However, he did not locate what he desired. Blood would make the difference. One stray axe swing could determine his and, well, Ettie's fate.

Now, he was on his fifth or sixth corpse. Some were beasts. Some had been still human. Fredricx parted the coat, searching for a hidden inside pocket. His fingers met a barely visible seam, but his eyes met the corpse's own eyes. This corpse was not that. The beast growled, thrashing wildly. Its head started to lift, but Fredricx could not have that. Using his cane as a skewer, he pinned the beast to the street through its own eye. It shrieked. The movement gradually stilled, and Fredricx went back to the search.

This time, he was not disappointed. He hastily latched two blood vials on the buckle of his coat. Satisfied, he approached where he had been rendered senseless, bleeding and stumbling off of the stairs to the ground level below. The beasts that threatened him once before were reduced to rubble. Their corpses were littered with cuts and holes.

He touched the skin of one of them, which was still blazing to the touch. Their killer was close. However, was this killer another beast or a Hunter? Did beasts even quarrel among themselves? Regardless, Fredricx was no fledgling. He knew he was likely in the bottom ranks of beasts and Hunters. Also, he knew Hunters were usually not friendly with one another. Unless he crossed paths with Adullam again, Fredricx could only rely on himself and his cane until he could figure it into a whip again.

He made a mental plan. First, find Ettie and assure her safety. Second, acquire a pistol or two. Third, acquire some shoes worthy of combat. Forth, live until morning. This plan was simple enough. Most likely, it was more difficult in its execution.

He descended the stairs. He knew this road led to the fountain in the center of the marketplace. It was lacking in population, but was still crowded. Abandoned carriages lined one side of the street. On the other side, incense lanterns dotted the way, concealing hidden citizens. Fredricx could hear noises from behind the doors. A man was cursing the Hunt and the Hunters. A woman was crying over the absence of a child. There was coughing and sputtering from another person in between fervently praying from yet another.

However, what caught his attention above all else was the crucifix. A gnarly beast, completely covered in hair with long claws, was tied and nailed to two beams, which stood about double Fredricx's height. It was no longer alive, but the fire beneath still consumed it with no mercy.

As he admired the sight, a gun fried. The bullet kissed him, scraping the side of his neck. At once, Fredricx could feel blood seize the opportunity to vacate his body. He gasped and turned. A beast had been lurking in the shadows of an abandoned carriage. Fredricx had mistaken it for a slouched corpse.

This beast wasted no time as it loaded another bullet into the chamber. The weapon was cocked, and the second bullet was released. Red flashed from inside the barrel of the weapon.

It was fast, but something made Fredricx faster. Maybe, the blood had done more than overcorrect his vision and bolster his hearing. He ducked and dashed from the line of fire. Fredricx lunged at the creature, using his body weight instead of the cane. They both fell, colliding into the stairs that led up to second story shops.

The pinning of the creature to the stairs was not as advantageous as Fredricx had hoped. The burning metal from the gun attempted to scorch him through the sleeves of his coat.

Struggling against the Hunter, the beast yelled and squirmed, fighting and scratching to regain control. One of the beast's hands flew up, and nails scraped skin from his cheek.

Fredricx landed a center blow to the creature's skull with his fist. The crackling was sickening. The blood was slickening. He backpedaled to scoop up his weapon. Before the creature could clamber upwards, Fredricx brought the cane through the creature until it was still.

Fortunately, the cries had attracted some additional beasts. He heard their footsteps first. Then, from the periphery of his vision, three advancing creatures with pitchfork and axes. They were stunted by the looming, striking bonfire in the middle of the street. A larger creature than any he had ever seen or dreamed to have seen was suspended far into the air. Unlike the last beast crucified, this one was still hanging on to scraps of life as it roared, fighting against its bondage. The growling tore through Fredricx's ears, sending headache ringing through his brain and back out again until he could only see the advancers.

The hooded one's mouth opened into an angry scream, thrusting the pitchfork forward. However, Fredricx did not hear the cry.

It would have seemed out of fear, but Fredricx dropped the cane as the prongs came at him. He sidestepped and snatched at the base of the fork's head. The creature tempted to kick him, but this only allowed Fredricx to pry the weapon away from it, wrenching the pitchfork from its hands. Disarmed, the beast backed away to allow its companions a go.

Fredricx got lucky sometimes as the pitchfork was longer than either axes. He flipped it over in his hands, so that the dangerous end would no longer be facing himself. Staring down the three of them as if daring one to advance, Fredricx could feel the blood loss catching up with him. The effect of the blood loss would soon outweigh the euphoria of the adrenaline.

Finally, one of the creatures broke rank and swung its ax at the Hunter. Fredricx jabbed his current weapon into its soft abdomen. The other one saw its chance and came at him. The pitchfork was removed and used in the same manner on the other.

Planting his foot backwards, he slid slightly on something. Giving a momentary glance, it was his cane, but it was no longer that. With all of his momentum, Fredricx smirked and daggered one of the creatures with the pitchfork before scooping up the metal whip.

He brought it across all three of them at once. The one with the farming utensil lodged in its sternum was finished, falling backwards. The other axe wielder or the hooded one could not make up the distance as Fredricx brought it across them again and then once more.

His luck had ran out, however. The original owner pried the weapon from its fellow beast's body. In mid swing of the whip, the pitchfork came for him again.

Truly, he could not have been any less lucky. The pitchfork made contact in his ribs, almost perfectly finding their prongs between the bones. He coughed at once, sputtering liquid down his beard and gasping at strands of air. The whip had nothing to stop it, and Fredricx could not jerk his wrist back around to hinder its movement. The shards continued their trajectory, flinging behind Fredricx and sticking themselves into his back. Shards pricked about his spine, and he shook.

Either thankfully or regrettably, the pitchfork was removed with a twist. Fredricx gave a half grunt and half cry with the movement. His eyes flickered closed for a moment until he could muster the resolve for his next action.

Still gripping the handle of the whip, he gave a swift yank. The shards were not friendly to their master. They tore free, taking flesh with them. It hurt far worse going out than in.

Bloodied, the whip turned its course, slicing and tearing at the beasts rather than the Hunter. The second ax wielder fell.

It was now whip versus pitchfork. The second was raised and brought down in a hammer like motion. This was easy to avoid, but not with the corpses littering the street. Fredricx dashed, but fell, tripping and scrapping the stone. The beast turned around and thought to finish him. Fredricx was not ready to be finished, so he lashed the whip upward blindly, hoping for contact. The shards condensed sharply as not to have any gaps between them. The cane speared through the beast's chest.

The beast fell, but not backwards. The pitchfork dangerously teetered, handle knocking the breath from Fredricx's lungs. Then, the beast came after, matching up with the Hunter's body on the street. This was too much for his person, and his consciousness slipped away again.

XXXX

"Oh, a Hunter, And an outsider? What a mess you've been caught up in. And tonight, of all nights," murmured a gentle voice with the face of a beast.

 **Author Note: Thanks for reviewing.**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 _"_ _Let everyone beware of his neighbor, and put no trust in any brother, for every brother is a deceiver, and every neighbor goes about as a slanderer." -Book of the Healing Church 9:4_

How was it possible for Fredricx to awaken in places he did not find himself rendered unconscious? That was third by his count, a count far too high. Also, how could his head still be ringing? It was as if his skull housed church bells, and it was Sunday morning.

"Queen's grace," he muttered. Where was he now? Blinking and gritting his teeth, he tried to will away the headache, which was secondary to the body ache.

Fredricx sheltered inside somewhere. Overturned crates shielded him from the moon's rays. After peaking about, all that separated him from the streets with its pandemic was a couple of haphazardly hammered slats. His cane was a few feet away.

Ettie, he thought about Ettie. More accurately, he panicked about her. Fredricx clamored up and between the slats, almost leaving the cane behind. The moon stared back at him. How long had he been unconscious? Surely, it would be morning soon or would have been morning already.

He surveyed the scene before him. He did not recognize this section of Yharnam. Smaller, squat buildings piled haphazardly. In the background, the Healing Church's bell tower was visible. It always stuck out in the Yharnam skyline. Thankfully, Lucas' apartment was not far from the Church, and Fredricx was not far from the Church.

For once, he was lucky. Instead of encountering live beasts, he only looted the dead ones, pocketing a handful of dirty pence. He was apprehensive, but it did not pay off immediately. Fredricx fought the desire to sprint through the alleyways. It might be faster, but definitely, not safer.

As he neared the Church, the air seemed to thicken. The street was decorated with corpses and broken carriages. As if on cue, shadows danced. Fredricx opted to hide instead of confront another cohort of beasts. He dove into the back of one of the carriages. It creaked and lurched forward ever so slightly, causing Fredricx to swear. Hastily, Fredricx closed himself in or as much as he could given one unadulterated door.

He watched from the splintered window as two forms passed. Their posture was oddly human. Their scent was not particularly beastly. One, clinging loosely to a saw blade of sorts, wore a drab yellow color with a cowl pulled about the shoulders. The blade was wrapped in red linens and had a long, hinged handle. The other wore familiar dark colors, toting about a vicious ax. Unlike Fredricx, they both held guns, marbled pistol and blunderbuss.

"Ohh," the dark coat wearing one started with keen interest, "What's that smell?"

The yellow clothed one responded, "The sweet blood. A fresh Hunter, perhaps?"

"Let's find him, Henryk." There was distinct amusement.

Fredricx hunkered down, gripping the cane backwards. Even Yharnamites knew about the type of camaraderie among Hunters. It was marked by lack thereof coupled with cruel and unusual practices.

If Fredricx could just overpower one of them, he could get away. If he could just knock one square on his back, he could escape.

The remaining door on the carriage swung open, revealing the two Hunters. To them, Fredricx was revealed. However, he was ready for them.

Selecting the saw blade carrier, Fredricx used the cane as a battering ram. The handle nailed the sternum of the Hunter, sending him backwards.

Fortunately, it was not backwards enough. Instead of kissing the stone, he merely staggered backwards a step or two. Of all things, he chuckled through a wheezy breath. Instead of amusement, the partner leveled his blunderbuss to Fredricx.

"Spare the fledgling, Gascoigne," Henryk pulled down the mask from his mouth, revealing a laughable grin with yellowed teeth. He located a blood vial from his coat and jammed the needle into his person. He felt about his collar bone with a satisfied huff.

Fredricx's gaze went from the center of the gun to the face of the threatener. Surely enough, standing before him was Father Gascoigne, the sermon preaching, philanthropy spreading, and racially selecting hirer for the Healing Church's construction.

Fredricx set his jaw, feeling veins tighten around his face and neck. He desired to not allow anger cloud his judgement, but the law of the land was lax until sunrise. What would it matter if he would allow anger to guide him? However, two on one were not favorable odds. Given the stains on their coats and weapons, they had more experience with beasts in the tip of their blades than Fredricx had barely mustered.

Henryk continued, "The Hunt is still early, and it will be a long one. We need all the weapons toward the beasts tonight."

Tentatively, Gascoigne dropped the blunderbuss to his side with a resilient breath. "What do you call yourself?"

"Fredricx."

There was no recognition, no glimmer of realization. He did not recall their interaction a few days prior. Oh, how this egged on Fredricx's anger.

"I'm Gascoigne. This is Henryk," he stated as he gestured with his ax. Gascoigne scooted to clear the carriage's exit. The other followed suit.

Figuring he had a better chance of survival not being confined, Fredricx climbed out and gripped the cane as intended. He stood slightly taller than both men.

"Oh," Gascoigne flatlined. The mood shifted. "A foreigner."

With a breath and an eye twitch, Fredricx decided not to act on his first instinct. Instead, he brushed past Henryk and started for the backside of the Church. There were no meek, socially appropriate words.

"He is not worth our time. He will be at the helm of the beasts soon enough," one snided.

Ettie was important.

Ettie was more important.

Ettie was most important.

He reviewed his mental checklist over and over. Find Ettie. Assure her safety. Find Ettie. Assure her safety.

XXXX

The street that Lucas lived on was usually known for its unruly occupants. Now, it was eerily quiet except for faint prayers and whispers.

Thankfully, Fredricx spotted Lucas' door. The incense lanterns were knocked over, but still lit. The soft glow was anything but comforting. The aroma made Fredricx's skin crawl. Strangely, tt had never irked him before now.

He knocked on the door despite his desire to burst it at its hinges. "Ettie, it's me, Fredricx."

Silence was the response. No footsteps. No rustling. No coughing. Gritting his fist, he gave more of a blow than a knock to the door. His heart hiccuped. "Lucas, it's Fredricx. Let me in."

The response was the same. Taking a step backwards, Fredricx used the distance to place a kick near the handle of the door. It buckled under the force, and flew open.

Ettie was not wrapped up to her chin in her quilt. Lucas was not coughing and sputtering. The apartment held one. That one was Fredricx. The quilt was left limp over the back of a chair. Red speckles dotted Lucas' nest of a bed. She was not there. Where was she? Also, where was Lucas? It didn't seem like him to let his cough do him in on tonight of all nights.

As if he could not be any luckier, clopping and choppy breathing filled his senses. Fredricx turned to peer into the street. He did this in just enough time to catch a beast's dark eyes. This one was gangling, less humanoid than the ones from earlier, but less beastly than the werewolves.

It grew more intimate than eye contact. The beast lunged at him, and successfully from the beast's account, they both tumbled to the ground, sliding across the grungy floor of the apartment. Fredricx could feel broken pieces of chair underneath him, poking and prodding him from the bottom. The beast was poking and prodding from the top.

Its teeth reek and dripped warm saliva about Fredricx's face. Not waiting to be bitten, he thrusted the cane up, skewering it through the ribs. This was hardly a lethal blow, causing it more anger than pain. It let out a deafening roar.

Scraping dress shoes, Fredricx squirmed and rolled from underneath the beast. Before he could make it to his feet again, it had slapped Fredricx back to the floor. Its slick teeth neared his arteries.

Desperately, he used his free hand to grapple at the beast's own jaw, which was surprisingly meaty. It was strong, still unhinging its jaw as it prepared to kiss Fredricx.

He had not abandoned the cane, but the weapon seemed useless in such proximity. Moving his fingers from the handle, he feebly trailed his grip closer to the end. This portion was greased with blood. The hope was to use it as more of a dagger than a spear. However, his spatial reasoning failed him. The end clanked with the floor instead of having the desired effect.

For his next act, Fredricx diverted some thought to bringing the weapon up before plunging it into the neck of the beast.

is own was spared as it roared again, rearing backwards away from him. The cane went with the beast, but Fredricx selected a new weapon, Ettie's quilt, from the floor. Surely, she would string him up later for this. He stood still, but ready for the beast. He let an exhale escape as he waited for the beast to orient itself.

It turned and charged at him. In turn, the Hunter cast the quilt into the air, which snagged over the head of the beast. It growled, while Fredricx ducked around to its flank. The handle of his cane protruded past the covering and was easily reclaimed.

As it flailed limbs wildly, Fredricx caught a stray few claws, but, thank the Queen, that the coat took most of the impact. Red rushed to the site, bubbling and warming at his shoulder.

Bringing the cane across and across again from the opposite direction, he swiped the beast through Ettie's quilt repeatedly. The hand sewn pieces tore, mimicking the state of the beast underneath. The beautiful colors were transformed into a ruddy red.

The pair, beast and covering, collapsed, and Fredricx was lucky not to be squashed. However, he would not be so lucky when he had to explain to Ettie what happened to her quilt. The beasts were a trivial problem in comparison to when she would realize what he had done.

XXXX

Initial panic from lack of finding Ettie and surging adrenaline from being blindsided by the beast were fading. Fading just enough for Fredricx's senses to catch a scent that was becoming quickly familiar.

Lucas' apartment had been reduced to rubble. The beast was splayed out in the center, which took up the entire space. The overturned crates, which normally acted as a bed frame, were so overturned that they were rightside up. The food on his counter was now residing on the floor. The white dust of flour coated the room like a light snow.

The fragrance wafted itself from the only solid piece of furniture in the room, the chest. Fredricx set down the cane and undid the latches. The hinges creaked upon opening, causing the room to fill with that saccharine smell.

Dingy clothes that had not seen a washing since their purchase crowded the top. Next, there was a layer of rubbish shoes. Moving the shoes caused the clinking of glass.

Fredricx had known about the drinking. In fact, he was a participant in it until the money ran dry. This was not the pressing issue. Fredricx shoveled around used blood vial after vial. Lucas had sworn he did not partake in it. Fredricx had stepped in the line of Adullam's blade, swearing on his friend's behalf. Every Hunt, the three of them had been holed up in Ettie and his apartment. Any of these Hunts could have made all of the difference between man and beast. Lucas had lied and was willing to have allowed for Ettie to pay for this sin.

Fredricx glanced back over his shoulder at the beast. Was that Lucas? Had his incurable cough in combination with the blood caught up with him?

He shook his head, fighting a headache. Pocketing the only full vial from the stash, he crept over the beast and stepped back into the street. Find Ettie. Assure her safety. Find Ettie. Assure her safety.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you." -Book of the Healing Church 32:7

Fredricx would have liked to have considered himself an honest man. This would not be his most upstanding decision, but it was necessary still. The cane had many uses, and Fredricx settled on using it as a glass pick. He used the weapon to spray said glass all about. The shattering and splintering echoed in the narrow alleyway. Knocking away window for himself from the actual pane, Fredricx stepped into the shop with the door he had made as the front door was not as welcoming to intruders.

It was dark inside. In fact, it was too dark for even the shadows. However, this was not an issue for Fredricx. It would have before the blood as he would have been a complete fool, bumping and knocking into the vendor's wares.

Regardless, he did not seek knick knacks. Instead, he came for something far more tactical, boots. Ones that would not fail him with lack of friction or slide when the streets ran red. The store, smelling strongly of urine for the leather, had a few pairs. He sat, plucking off bloodied dress shoes, and replaced them with a pair of dark boots. They were strong and would hold well against the streets, and more surprisingly, they fit comfortably.

Before leaving, Fredricx emptied his pockets of pence onto the counter. It would be more than enough to pay for the shoes, but the window would require more indulgences than that. The Church's spire loomed overhead as he exited. The Church knew his sin, but Fredricx doubted they would condemn him for it.

The Hunter flinched first for the noise, resisting the urge to drop the cane to cover his ears. The gunshot reverberated from the alleyway. It was the ringing that tensed his muscles. He flinched again, but this time for the penetration. It was an unwilling kiss that lodged itself into his person, reaping a burning sensation in his whole shoulder and down his arm into his fingertips.

The shooter was at the top of a flight of stairs and was reloading. Instead of allowing an additional shot, Fredricx sprung toward his aggressor. The cane willed itself into a whip as he clomped up the stairs in couples and triads. With a jerk of his wrist, the Hunter brought the whip around, missing the target by near centimeters.

Luckily, the beast had finished its task and leveled the rifle again with Fredricx. This time, however, there was a much closer, thus much easier, target. The hammer flexed. The trigger squeezed. The bullet shot.

This one nailed Fredricx in a far more conspicuous place, sending him reeling backwards in surprise. It was backwards just enough to loosen his footing on the stairs. He tumbled and tumbled. When he was finished doing so, his back protested and brain cried from impact. Even the whip betrayed him as it fell second. The links slapped across his torso. Gasping to drink in the cool air was his first step before unsteadily pulling himself up into uneasy standing.

Fredricx cursed himself. He cursed the Healing Church. He even cursed the Queen. He would kill for a firearm. This was not figurative.

The Hunter disregarded his predatory inklings. Instead of lurching up the stairs again, he slinked into a doorway, pressing his back flat against the wood grain. Red glued his skin to his coat and his coat to the door. The sugary smell from the apartment's incense lantern caused Fredricx's nose to crinkle and tongue to feel heavy in his mouth.

Another shot discharged. Prayerfully, it zoomed past him, and so did the next one. He took the opportunity this time to traverse the stairs again. This time, he did so successfully, avoiding the bullet. Surely, two was enough.

The cane embedded itself into the beast's skin and was torn out. Its clothes were ripped from its gangly torso. The skin cried with blood underneath. The creature attempted to use the broad end of the rifle as a club, but Fredricx was quicker. Just as the whip would pierce flesh, it would be brought the opposite direction until the beast crumpled, cursing the Hunter with its pseudo language.

Fredricx decided to abandon the rifle. It was useless without bullets, but far more useless in close range combat. He needed a pistol or blunderbuss, something that could be managed with one hand. A mask would be helpful as well to guard against the stench and keep from drinking the blood of the beasts. He spat red onto the cobblestone. To describe the taste as sour was an understatement.

The tingling of his arm caught up with him. The appendage rendered itself almost limp at his side. Fredricx noted the lone blood vial and decided to use it. Dropping the whip after a foolish attempt to reach with the flaccid arm, his functioning fingers fumbled about his pockets. There were not very many, just the two of his trousers. The stiff leather reminded him of the additional pockets of the coat. Fingers, as if on their own, spilled the matches, snapping the fragile wood. Where had the vial gone? Certainly, he had not used it. No, he had not.

The coat was deceptive to Fredricx in these moments, hiding the compartments on the inside. Cursing the buckle across his chest, he drew scratches as he fiddled with the metal prong. His breathing was labored as if searching his person was equivalent to boxing or the like. Sweat stuck his hair flat and beard itchy against his neck.

Finally, he was able to unlatch the binding. The coat slumped slightly, pulling at the injured shoulder. Fredricx fiddled for some unknown amount of additional time. Skillfully, he missed the inside opening of the pocket over and over again until his hand was slick with error. Shaking his head caused the Church's spire to dance across the moonlit sky.

He would fall. His lulling head took him in directions he thought he did not want to go. Bleary vision, of all things, revealed an advancing figure. Fredricx could not greet it as he toppled himself to the stone. It was so cool against his burning cheek. It was such a welcoming hug. The figure was dressed in the strangest way. It was covered from tippy top to down low in the most amusing get up. Of all things, the figure was made up in fur with a very convincing mask that had moving black marbles for eyes. The fur clad, marble playing eyeballed figure held a hunk of something in one stilt long arm.

Fredricx hummed in amusement, lulling his forehead further into the ground for its fridgedness. His eyes fastened themselves for he was overcome with tiredness. This was the comfiest option in Yharham, maybe in all of Europe.

Then, it struck him. It quite literally struck him.

XXXX

The soft light was far too much, even for his closed eyes. Upon peeling them open, his headache intensified, so he opted to tighten them again. This treated him better, and he was able to ungrit his canines.

Then, it struck him. It quite figuratively struck him. Fredricx tensed, feeling the adrenaline start to surge. He lunged up, finding the whip in his clamped palm. Head swiveling, he was disappointed. Breathing at once slowed.

There was no beast looming overhead as he watched below from the dirty, rotten streets. His face had gingerly been spooning and fawning with the feces ridden stone. He aggressively rubbed his cheeks and forehead with the sleeve of his coat. The coarse leather irritated his face and pulled at his wiry beard. He would never be rid of the disgusting feeling on his cheeks.

White flowers were planted in neat rows before the house. The gravestones were not nearly as tended. Fredricx spotted his. In perfect, serifed script, it made him shudder. Bumps formed on his arms and neck. He was not sure if he should curse or bless his brain. The hallucination was back. Was it a blessing that his imagination had conjured the same, tranquil house with the same woman and the same eerie gravestone? Or, more likely, was it a curse that his creativity was so damaged that it could not develop anything other than the same, tranquil house with the same woman and the same eerie gravestone?

The woman's cream eyes found his in a warm, but impersonal way. "Welcome home, Good Hunter," she bowed slightly at the waist. Her voice was level, showing no particular conviction.

He nodded back at her.

She stared, watching him shift about his weight with the cane. His arm was no longer useless as it responding to the messages his brain was sending to twiddle his fingers and hinge at the elbow. Her silver hair was being gently blown by a slight breeze. There was something mechanical about her, in the way she moved and did so with such slightness.

"What do you call yourself?" Fredricx asked the hallucination. He was not sure why he addressed her with such formality as there was no reason.

"I am a doll," she replied curty.

Why would she defame herself? It was hardly how a woman would refer to herself.

"I will be here for you," she continued, "to embolden your sickly spirit."

"Thank you." He offered nothing else, but a sour expression. Fredricx decided to take little offense to his own imagination.

"Did you speak with Gehrman? He was a Hunter long, long ago, but now serves only to advise them."

This was the second time he had been told this by the woman, the doll. He decided to give himself the go around, "Where is Gehrman?"

The woman raised her wrist, gesturing vaguely up to the house. Stairs, lined by gravestones including his, led to an ajar door. There was unnatural light leading him inside. As he transversed the stairs, additional skeletons, small and moaning with their agape mouths, gripped loosely at his pant legs. Fredricx's skin crawled, feeling as Ettie did with cockroaches. They were almost as plentiful, and he decided to dismiss them the same way.

The skeletons cried and disappeared under his boot, but there was no crackle like with the roaches that they would have found about the counters, coated with flour. If there was anything he would change about the blood driven hallucinations, Fredricx would be rid of these skeleton beasts.

Disregarding his gentlemanship, he brushed past the ornate door into the house. It was incredibly small as there were larger apartments in Yharnam, but everything else was otherwordly. It was not in Yharnam's industrial, dirty style. It was not London high fashion either.

The single room was covered in browns. Bookshelves lined both walls closest to him. They were piled with books, stacked in all directions along with trinkets and dusty knick knacks. Dingy mirrors were tacked unevenly on walls and yet others were simply propped against it. A fireplace broke the monotony and was followed by a wooden workshop table, lined with dull knives and other tools. On the farest wall, there were lit candles upon an altar. Suspended from the ceiling on shipyard chains, there were blades of all lengths and viciousnesses. The room was practical for nothing, but in the middle of the room, a man sat in a wheelchair.

XXXX

He was old, and that was an understatement. He looked like he belonged under, under the ground that is. Brittle, scraggly hair poked from a black, wide brimmed hat. The wrinkles on his face were his most prominent feature. The man had long lost any semblance of any muscular distinction as age must have atrophied his form.

The rest of his clothes were just as stagnant, dark trousers and collar with an equally dark scarf pouring about his neck and leaning haphazardly to one side. His pallid knuckles, poking so far out that Fredricx thought they might burst forth from the very skin, rested upon an actual cane, which was for the elderly, not for a Hunter.

The man's breathing was shallow. In fact, his whole person rocked slightly. It was not particularly tempid, but the man shivered slightly about himself. At once, dull eyes made contact with Fredricx's.

"Ah-hah," he snorted, acknowledging and flexing his veinous fingers around the handle of the cane, "You must be the new Hunter. Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now. I am Gehrnam, friend to you Hunters."

He inclined his head toward Gehrnam, "Fredricxon Vinge."

"Fredricxon, you are sure to be in a fine haze about now, but do not think too hard about all of this."

"Where am I?" Fredricx was not sure why he even bothered asking as if he could get reliable information that he did not know himself from a hallucination from his own mind, but he asked anyway.

"The Dream."

"Where is the Dream? What part of Yharnam? I've never been here before tonight."

The old man laughed, wheezing slightly, "Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good. You know, it is just what Hunters do. You will get use to it."

Fredricx decided his irritation was not worth blossoming into anger. He was asking stupid questions to a mere figment. He turned, intending to exit the house.

"A word of advice, Fredricxon, if you are downed by a beast, you will return here, but if you slayed by another Hunter, your contract will end, and you will never see the Yharnam's sunrise," Gehrnam offered matter of factually.

This chilled him. "Clarify yourself."

"Be wary."

Fredricx nodded, not feeling any sense of relief from having received such ominous clarification, being just as vague as the first statement. Having nothing else to ask, he left, descending the stairs.

"Good Hunter," the woman, Doll, spoke up as he brushed past, "Are you leaving so soon? You may rest longer if you would like."

"I have to find Ettie," he said, locating his gravestone. Fredricx knelt beside it, placing a hand on the top. The rock was smooth and cool to his touch. Feeling nauseated at once, his eyes closed.

The woman's words chased after him, "May you find your worth in the waking world."

Author Note: I realized it has been too long since I updated. I'm sorry.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him,"

Book of the Healing Church 13:2

Ettie. Her soft features, coupled with her pointed scowl and elbows, muddied his mind. His rationality chipped from his picturesque view, grimy streets with grimy buildings and a grimy sky.

Where could she be?

Ettie was not found with Doctor Iosefka. In fact, she had no recollection at all of his wife. Ettie was not located in Lucas' apartment. In fact, Lucas was not there either, having been replaced by a beast and outed for his apparent blood addiction.

Ettie was a viglinant woman with a sharp tongue that had gotten her out of many precarious situations. However, no stinging, abrasive words would fend her away from beasts or the immorally obligated men. Oh, this made his head pound, and Fredricx wanted to complement the feeling by pounding it against the nearest wall.

"Think," Fredricx cursed himself, "Queen's grace, think."

From the distance, a high pitched bell toll reverberated down the alleyway. It was not like the heavy bells of the church that sounded throughout the city. This was something particularly small, but powerful. Regardless, the noise caused him to flinch. However, it was gone as suddenly as it started, and the Hunter went back to thinking.

Yharnam was no quaint town, but certainly full of backwater. He would never find her in the midst of the Hunt. Even if there was not the threat of the streets, it would still takes days to locate her. However, he had far less time than that. The newspapers would more than likely show grainy photographs of her possible corpse before he could find Ettie.

He wanted to shout, no, scream for her. Wandering the streets, he would call her name on a loop like a broken phonograph. Thankfully, he caught himself before the syllables could graze his lips. Beasts, there were beasts around every corner. Beasts that knew no difference between a Hunter who was out to slay and one that was frantically searching for a beloved individual. Undoubtedly, Fredricx would kill beast or otherwise.

He transversed the stairs he had been gunned downed earlier. That same beast, tattered from his whip, lay contorted against the street. Yet again, a few paces forward, the stone was slightly less dirty in one particular spot, cleaned by his face when he had been deliriously spooning the ground.

His oppressor had not wandered far as if challenging Fredricx to return to this very location. They would clash again, but this time, it would be its blood that spilled. The rats would feast.

The wolf beast did not notice as he approached from behind. Feeling the whip, warm and smooth in against his palm, he flung it!up and across his torso. The links bit into the fur. With a swift yank, they were drug out, ripping and tearing trenches. A roar was its response.

The beast withered and turned. Dark marble eyes met his. A snarl formed over the canines of the beast man. It lunged at him, but, for once, Fredricx was quicker as he ducked the outstretched claws. He slashed the whip again and again until the creature crumbled. It slouched to the ground with a distinct thud. The scent of blood grew strong. In fact, it was almost overwhelming to the senses for it was beyond sour.

It cried out at him, but Fredricx quelled the noise with the heel of his boot. The whip was limp at his side, slathered with red and tufts of fur as if something liberally buttered had been dropped on the floor of an unswepted barber shop.

Additional beasts rushed at him. These were far less human and far more animal, avian really. They were crows, but quintuple the size without a fear of him. They had sharp beaks, slightly agape with what seemed to be meaty, internal chunks. Their feathers were long with the wingspan of a hefty child. These three creatures flew clunkily, but still bearing their talons at him.

Distinctively, Fredricx's arms covered his face. His nose dug into the worn leather of the arm of his coat. Thankfully, the beasts did little than scratch at him. He tried the whip on them, but the overgrown crows appeared too evasive. Clenching his fist and jerking the weapon blindly about, he willed it into a cane. He did not will enough because it remained unbound in its flacid links.

They hissed at him, putting the contents of their mouth on full, unashamed display. Carrion guzzled in their throats with red as plentiful as water.

The crows devolved into jabbing Fredricx with their beaks. His bottom half was not as fortunate. The material of his pants easily gave away to the beasts' requests. Not only did they tear out bits of his flesh, they swallowed them whole as well.

Abandoning the whip, he reached for one of the birds with his bare hands. It was not quick enough to dart away, and the creature's neck crumpled under his grip. The snap was sickening, and red spilled through his fingers and rained onto the ground below. Likely, it was a ungodly mixture of human and beast.

The remaining beasts were just as fortunate. The last and largest one struggled against him, flapping its wings to create some distance and to cause Fredricx to release his grip. It was unsuccessful, but did manage a vengeful spray of spittle all over his face, making his eyes burn with acid. Gritting them closed, the Hunter flailed among with the bird momentarily before wrenching the bird to its death.

XXXX

The Church, he thought, the church might house others for safekeeping during the Hunt. Fredricx was not sure what the requirement was to reside there. Wealth? Religious prestige? Luck? Friendship?

He exchanged the limp bird for his limp whip and headed to toward the looming spires. He attempted to quench the burning of his eyes with a swipe of his shirt sleeve. This only irritated them more, so Fredricx blinked until they watered.

On his way back through town, it was eerily quiet. Corpses, human and else, lined walkways. Disrespectfully, Fredricx rifled through their pockets. Regardless, it was worth the potential hauntings as he pocketed a few blood vials, some ashy pence, and a watch, which if he would have found long ago, would have bought back his wedding ring from the con artist at the pawn shop.

With all the gold he was going to make from this Hunt, he would take Ettie down to the jeweler's on the highest end of town and have a ring custom made for her. She would have any stone of any color of her choosing. He might replace his too, while they were at it. Looking down at his hand, Ettie's ring was still lodged on his smallest finger. Find Ettie. Assure her safety. Find Ettie. Assure her safety.

Even a block away from the Chapel, he could smell it. The smell was so saccharine that it wrinkled his nose. The incense was heavy hanging in the air. No wonder the beasts had dispersed. In fact, he had only seen a Hunter, brandishing an ax, chasing after a beast on the upper level of the city.

Surprisingly, the door to the Church, from what he could see, was left wide open, incense wafting from the inside. On second thought, that might not be such a good sign. Taking a deep breath in, he stepped through the threshold of the Chapel, which he had never done before as the sinner he was.

Instead of a devastating scene or a room full of huddled people, this large room was empty. Lanterns casted the room in a yellow glow except the ceilings, which were so tall that the light could not penetrate the darkness. There were altars and chairs lining the edges. Each wall had its own door, all of which seemed fastened shut.

Ettie was not here. Fredricx jangled on the closest door. He was greeted by a masked beast, so it was quickly shut again. Banging on the door followed, but there was no advancement. The next door was locked. Even rocking it about on its hinges, the door remained glued. Finally, there was one left. Before Fredricx could reach for it, there was a voice. It startled him.

"Ahh, a Hunta are ya? Very sorry, the incense must've masked your scent."

He looked around and then down. He saw it. It had spoken to him. It was a pitifully deformed creature with grey skin and long arms, but no lower bodily extremities. It was coated in a red shawl that covered the head and was spread all about the ground around it like it was sitting in a pool of liquid. It was so gangly with sullen eyes and a skull almost bursting through tight skin.

Despite the appearance, its voice was so gentle with words carefully chosen despite the accent. Its eyes, though sunken, glimmered in an unbeastily way, no, in a humanly way. The creature smiled up at Fredricx from its position on the floor.

Honestly, he was not sure if he was to draw his weapon upon it or speak with it. He would quickly find out either way.

"I am," Fredricx nodded curtly.

The thing continued, "Good, good. I've been waiting for one of your ilk. These Hunts have everyone all locked up inside. Waiting for it to end... It always does, always has, y'know. Since forever."

Fredricx's silence was interrupted by that same pitched ringing. It was closer this time and almost made the Hunter reflexively cover his ears. His reaction must have been visceral as he set a hard jaw with gritted teeth.

"Hunta, are ya quite alright?" it asked.

"Didn't you hear that?"

The creature paused and tilted its head, straining to listen. "No, Hunta."

The noise passed, and Fredricx tempted to loosen his facial expression. Likely, this was without success. He remained silent.

It shifted uncomfortably under his nonresponse. "But," the creature began again after some silence, "It won't end very nicely, not this time. Even some folks hiding inside are goin' bad. The screams of wimminfolk, the stench of blood, the snarls of beasts... none of em's too uncommon now. Yharnam's done fer, I tell ya."

Again, the soft spoken creature awaited a response from Fredricx, who did not humor it. Awkwardly, it spoke up again as if it could not bear the silence. "But if you spot anyone with their wits about 'em... Tell 'em about this here Oedon Chapel. They'll be safe here. The incense wards off the beasts. Spread the word... tell 'em to come on over. If you wouldn't mind... Hee hee..."

Fredricx was not sure what to make of the cackling, but, again, it looked at him with eager eyes, waiting and luring a response.

"I'll tell them," Fredricx pacified.

There was at once light despite the creature's grey hue skin. "What's ya name, Hunta?"

"Fredricx."

"Fedicx," the creature repeated with its quirky accent, "Pleasure to meet ya."

Hopelessly, Fredricx inquired about Ettie with no avail. Not a single soul, human or else, had been through Oedon's Chapel, according to the creature. Just it had occupied the space seemingly waiting for someone to take refuge with him.

"I'll take good care of ya Ettie if ya send her this way once ya find her, Hunta Fedicx. Promise," the creature held out its long fingers up toward Fredricx, who bent over slightly to shake its hand.

The Hunter gave a final dip of his head before reaching for the final closed door. It opened before he could touch the knob, revealing a library of sorts. Cold breeze tickled his little exposed skin, causing little bumps to form on his neck.

"Name's Judas," the creature squeaked, following it up with another chuckle.

With that, Fredricx descended into the belly of the Church.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 _"_ _For the righteous falls seven times and rises again, but the wicked stumble in times of calamity." -Book of the Healing Church 24:18_

"Good hunting, Fred?"

Fredricx stood a pace into the absurdly small library. Book shelves overfilled with the expected seemed they would topple over with the weight. There was a table in the middle, covered in scrolls and gold tinted scientific equipment and religious relics. The Hunter's hat and sword also rested on the table. Against the far wall, there was an open chest, tufts of cloth hung from the mouth. Finally, a dark ladder led to who knows where.

Near one of the bookshelves, the red coated Hunter was picking through reading material. The white frills of his shirt underneath were stained on both chest and sleeves. "Well?" Adullam asked again, tilting his head sideways, "Have you had good hunting?"

Fredricx began to nod and then to shake his head. "Where is Ettie?"

They made eye contact. "What do you mean?" Adullam returned the book haphazardly to a shelf.

"When I woke up, she wasn't there. I've been looking for her."

Adullam's head shook. "I'm sorry, Fredricx. I don't know. Doctor Iosefka does not allow Hunters in her clinic for fear of blood drunkenness. She sealed herself and presumably Ettie deeper inside. Did you check with the Doctor?"

"Of course," Fredricx wanted to spit.

"I'll keep an eye out for her," the Hunter smoothed.

Then, there was that noise again. The small sounding bell that seemed to haunt Fredricx. He gave a small grit to his teeth. However, Adullam seemed unphased.

"Didn't you hear that bell?" he asked, using one hand to knead his palm against the handle of the whip and the other to swipe his eyebrow.

"Yes," Adullam began, "It is a beckoning bell. They are passed around and only heard by fellow Hunters. It will bother you less as your senses adjust to the blood. Regardless, when one is rung, it is another Hunter asking for help."

"Should we go?"

"By the Great One, Kosm himself, no," he swore, "The size of your cranium must not be reflective of the brain matter inside. It could be a less than hospitable Hunters trying to lure you. You would be such easy picking." There was a snarl. "Apologies," Adullam breathed out, straightening his posture and giving himself a shake at the shoulders, "I'll show you what I mean." He recapped his hat and collected the sword, which seemed sticky against the table. The mask was brought about his mouth and nose.

Fredricx thought of Gehrman's warning. No, Fredricx thought of his hallucination's warning and decided to dismiss it. Between the piercing noises, overwhelming smells, and visual hallucinations, the blood was already costly. Would it get worse as time went on as his body could no longer fight it? Would it get better as time went on as he adjusted to its wiles?

They descended the ladder on the far side of the room. Not knowing what else to do, Fredricx looped the links of the whip around his collar like a scarf. It was precarious at best and lethal at worst. It was at least asking for a nasty infection.

Adullam's shoes hit water below with sloshing. It was water at best and who knows what at worst. It was at least asking for a nasty infection.

Thankfully, the water or not water didn't creep into Fredricx's boots. He hoped this would not be his only stroke of luck for the night.

"Where are we?"

"Not a religious man, Fred?" Adullam countered, "Don't leave flowers on the symbolic tomb of the beloved Oedon, the Great One that ascended and is now completely formless?"

Fredricx unhooked the whip from his neck, allowing the metal shards to clink against the ground. "Not in the slightest. Yourself?"

"I do believe," Adullam answered, "but I'm not going to gouge my own eyes to show my devotion. My loyalty is elsewhere."

From the low cistern, they emerged on Yharnam's streets once again. The moon was practically glistening, which lit up the coffins that vertically lined both sides of the walkway. These were not misshapen, salvaged wooden coffins for the poor, but metal casted, ornately inscribed ones for the wealthy as if money equated entrance to an afterlife.

The gate into the tomb and its courtyard were left wide open except it had likely not been that way at the start of the night. The gate had been locked and shut. Now, the lines of iron had stressed and bent, leaving it hinged open awkwardly. From the gateway, Fredricx could see tombstones poking every which way in the yard below.

They were not alone. A set of stairs separated them with another figure, who was seemingly wandering and creating small trenches in the ground with the blade of his ax. They watched for a moment as the Hunter stupored in between headstones with shoddy shoulders and neck bent far forward. His lips were moving, but he was not speaking to anyone.

"Just who I wanted to see tonight," Adullam muttered, sarcasm weighty in his voice, to Fredricx, who himself could have gone without seeing this particular Hunter again.

"Gascoigne," Adullam flamboyantly called toward him, sheathing his blade and spreading his arms in delight. He transversed the stairs with Fredricx slightly behind. "Good hunting, I presume? It is a nasty night, filled with all sorts of abominations, but it means the gold will be plentiful in the morning."

Adullam gave a bow at the waist as they approached and then signaled for Fredricx to do the same with a snap of his gloved fingers. Reluctantly, Fredricx did. The bow was not out of respect, but tension.

Resting the ax handle on his shoulder, Gascoigne snorted air through his nose. "Adullam," his head shook, shifting his blunderbuss as if inspecting its readiness. "You recruited another of your breed, I see?"

Gascoigne's smell was just as degrading as his words. He reeked of something far more sour than alcohol. On the other hand, the red coated Hunter seemed to take little offense to smell or comment. Instead, he laughed, and it was so convincingly not superficial. "Oh, come now. The Scourge is dissuaded by all manner of weapons."

"Do you have any blood?" Gascoigne interjected, but it was less of a question and more of an imperative.

Adullam, of all things, smiled. "Of course." He handed Fredricx his pistol and unbuttoned his coat. Digging about his inside pockets, the Hunter produced two vials, which glistened in the moonlight.

Greedily, Gascoigne snatched them up, but Adullam was unphased and rebuttoned the coat with white frills poking from the top. The pistol was returned to its owner.

"You?" The conversation turned to Fredricx, who eyed Adullam. There was a slight nod with a look of strikingly grave intensity. However, the look was gone as quickly as it came, and he went back to immediately beaming at Gascoigne.

"Well?" Gascoigne insisted, "Didn't you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you," Fredricx suppressed his hiss as he shuffled about the inside of his coat's pockets. The leather crinkled and squeaked. He surrendered a single vial.

"Is that all you have?"

"Yes," Fredricx lied. Gascoigne glared at him, but Fredricx offered nothing, not even an explanation.

Then, it happened again. The beckoning bell seemed amplified off the stone around them, causing Gascoigne to smile. "Looks like my presence is requested," he laughed, bellowing it out as if the most comical situation had just played out before him.

In response, Adullam chuckled. "We are headed elsewhere. Good hunting, Gascoigne."

"He's been worse," was all Adullam offered as they watched the black coat and its Hunter disappear down a set of stairs into the belly of the city.

XXXX

The two of them stood idly for long moments before going after him. Gascoigne had gifted them with two freshly slew beasts, hacked into many illogical puzzle pieces. Red was the glue that would never fit them back together.

They crossed the obscenely large walkway. Fredricx had not been on this side of Yharham as work was toward the docks, and days off were spent inside, resting his back. Regardless, was the poor architectural choice due to pompiety or to unruly urban development?

Fredricx decided it was the second has the cobblestone dropped off into the aqueducts. The moon reflected off water that was less than drinkable, far less than potable.

Adullam led Fredricx to the far side, to a ledge that probably was not designed for full grown men. The ledge barely poked out from the wall and followed along the aqueducts below before jutting around a corner.

"If you fall," Adullam jested, "Hold tightly to that whip of yours. There are always unfriendly beasts at the bottom." On second thought, he was not joking.

They inched and inched. Well, Fredricx inched, while Adullam footed. His footing was relatively stable as Fredricx shimmied sideways. Cursing the small gravel locked in the traction of his boots, Fredricx let out a deep breath to calm his insides and outsides.

"Let's go," Adullam urged, having already rounded the corner.

Using his free hand to strangle the exterior corner, Fredricx shifted, willing his legs forward without casting glances other than toward the direction of Adullam's voice.

Thankfully, it ended far less dramatically than any other outcome. Hopefully, this would not be his last bit of luck for the night. There was obviously far more to go.

Instead of another wonderfully wide walkway, the ledge ended. The only thing that would break their fall into the aqueducts was a slightly larger platform with a ladder that seemed to kiss the moon at its peak.

Fredricx watched as Adullam sheathed his sword and holstered his gun, and he turned his head toward Fredricx. "Transform your weapon. The cane will be far friendlier."

"I haven't quite mastered it yet."

"It would have been a little more convenient if I knew this earlier," Adullam grimaced. He accepted the whip by its handle, and in one solid motion, lashed it directly out in front of him in a practical straight line. It recoiled and snapped together into the cane. The links jangled into place with small creaks of metal. It was returned to its rightful owner.

"Come on," Adullam said as if there was somewhere to go other than backwards. The Hunter jumped, pushing off the edge with arms extended. His feet scraped rungs, and hands coiled tightly around the ladder. Without hesitation and with merely a small grunt of trivial discomfort, he climbed. His shoes clomped against the metal rungs.

Air whistled through Fredricx's nostrils. This did little to relieve the tension growing in his shoulders. As carefully as Fredricx could and attempting not to loosen his balance, he slid the cane between his belt and trousers. If he fell, it would not kill him, but it would be an inconvenience to say the least. Adullam had stopped and was peering down at him, "We've got beasts to slay, Fredricx."

However, Fredricx's luck must have been short on supply. Despite his general fitness and reliable instincts, his jump was not so successful. He sprung and tumbled. He thanked the Queen when he looped an arm around one of the rungs of the ladder. This, sadly, was only temporary relief. The momentum swung the rest of him in one direction, which was too much for his elbow. Involuntarily, it released, and he continued to fall.

Fredricx palmed desperately. Instead of securing himself, he only managed to bruise his fingers and bend them too far past their preferred angles. If only it had ended there, Fredricx might have praised Odeon himself. Instead he landed on the platform below. "Land" was too generous of a descriptor. In fact, his body did not stop with this misfortune of tumbling. This was more than a mere inconvenience.

Fredricx struck one leg against the corner and continued his descent into the aqueducts. Tired fingers grappled the same edge that actively split his knee, which already bubbled with liquid. He gave several feeble attempts to propel himself forward, elbows protesting his own weight.

Fredricx, for the first time, surveyed his surroundings. There was a less precarious ladder just out of reach, but the drop did not seem nearly as far has he had already come. The water below could not have been that deep, so Fredricx let go.

XXXX

He was right about the water. It lapped at his calves. Unfortunately, the Hunter instantly regretted the decision. The water started to stir violently around him, and Fredricx was looking into the yellowed eyes of about a dozen sets.

"Queen's grace," he swore and jerked the cane from his belt. This was quite the inconvenience.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"Tell your children of it, and let your children tell their children, and their children to another generation."

Book of the Healing Church 1:3

Fredricx hissed out a breath, gripping the cane harshly in his palm. The moonlight eyes surveyed him from his coat to the cane. Moreover, the beasts probably smelled him, wrenched body order with that distinctly sour tinge of blood.

Once they had made up their mind, one screeched, setting off a choir of other screaming. It was quite literally deafening as the screeching reverberated off stone and turned into ringing, which was so blaring that the creatures seemed to move silently through the water. Twisting and grappling, the beasts used large forearms to drag themselves forward, trapping Fredricx against the wall. The ladder was just barely too far from reach, how lucky.

The nearest beasts dug their claws through his trouser legs and kissed the meat of his calves and thighs. It was piercing, but that would be the least of his problems if the creatures would be able to buckle him to his knees and parallel him with the horizon.

Thankfully, the closest one could not stand a skewering through the forehead. Yellow eyes lost their life as the beast crumbled. Red, like a rushing river, spread down the wrinkles and contaminated the water. This was successful for a few of the creatures, but this method decreased in effectiveness as the beasts had no regard for their dead and scrambled on top of the deceased to hook and drag at Fredricx.

With more of their nails dug into his flesh, he did the scrambling this time. Jerking and spasming, he ripped free from some hands before toppling into the shallow water. Regardless of the water's depths, this was quite enough to drown Fredricx in this situation as he guzzled down the water like fluid in trade of air. The beasts pressed down on him with what seemed and felt like their entire beings. The weight might have been enough, disregarding the water altogether.

He scraped all his limbs, straining to even get just one nostril above water. The cane was abandoned in favor of using his arms to crawl forward. He took a lesson from these beasts and slammed his elbows against the bottom of the aqueducts to prop himself up ever so slightly. Tingles shot to his fingers, causing him to seize for moment.

The air was crisp and putrid, but in this moment, it was a breath from heaven. The quick breath was overtaken by bodily rejection of the water being ejected from the wrong parts of his insides. Intensified by the beasts, he thought the coughing was going to make him vomit.

Having gained just a little momentum, he groped his way forward ever so slightly and twisted onto his side. This dislodged some of the weight, but not the limbs raked into his backside. Taking advantage of his boots, he stomped the beasts within reach as forcefully as possible. This was just enough to grab the cane on his way up to standing and conscript the release of the beasts. However, they did not release delicately. Instead, punctures lengthened considerably.

Again, they screeched at him as Fredricx retreated further from the ladder. He willed the cane into a whip, striking it back and forth as Adullam had done with no avail. Frustrated was an understatement. The beasts would topple him again, but this time, he was not sure if the adrenaline would give him enough of a fighting chance.

The Hunter struck the weapon in every direction, and taking the opportunity to ram through some of the beasts. The staggering gave him just enough time to wrench the stubborn cane into its alternate form. The links popped free, spreading a line of biting shards widely about his legs.

Fredricx let out a breath of luck before thrashing the whip about vehemently. In fact, there was little thought given to the drag of the coils at all. The beasts probably gave mind to it though.

Crackling as it connected over and over again. The sound might have been from the links whistling through the space or the jingle together of shards. The sound could have more internal and organic.

The approximate dozen had slouched into a measly couple, whose long, wrinkled bodies were quickly just that. Not wishing to be surprised, Fredricx surveyed the aqueducts. Moonlight barely scratched the water as the city loomed far above, blocking most of the precious light. The water was stilling, and red seemed to float on the surface around the corpses. It grew even quieter as the water sent out less and less rings.

"Fred," Adullam cheered, "You had me worried there to begin with, but I knew you could handle it." He was standing on the next platform above the level of water, beaming visible by the folds of his mask.

"I almost drowned, and you just stood there," Fredricx hissed.

There was a head shake and chuckle. "Yes, but you were fine. Let's go. I still want to show you the bell."

With fight response grinding to a halt in Fredricx's veins, he could feel the sliding of droplets down his face and beard, the stiffness of the clothes stuck to his form, and the leather coat weighed down by its own cistern of water. Most of all, the water like fluid covered his person in itchiness. However, all of this was secondary or even tertiary to the gouges in his legs and back.

Fredricx was grateful that he had lied to Gascoigne and fiddled around for one of the blood vials in his deep pockets. It was uncapped and injected into the center of the worst visible puncture. The excruciation piddled off to a minor discomfort. This blood was truly amazing, patching wounds in minutes, untiring muscles, and the euphoria was comparable to nothing else.

Adullam had already left him on the first platform and was climbing up the comically long ladder, which was an engineering oddity of its own. Fredricx followed after. The mouth led out into a residential street. Apartment windows, covered by curtains and wrought iron, were lit up with that yellow lantern glow. Pinkish, sugary smelling incense burned in doorways. This was enough to make Fredricx's nose crinkle.

As the pair passed window after window, they paid no mind to the hushed tones or to the fervent praying. However, one window caught Fredricx's attention.

A curtain slid open, revealing a small girl with such blonde hair and pallid skin that she looked brittle. Her eyes made Fredricx stop and stare back, and the cane became just that. She was young, so young.

"Who... are you?" she squeaked, placing a small hand against the window on her side of the glass.

"Name's Fredricx."

Crystal irises bore through his very person. She, for a lack of better words, was sizing him up. "I don't know your voice, but I know that smell," she began with much hesitation, "Are you a Hunter?"

He nodded.

"Then, please, will you look for my mum?"

His silence was interrupted by a lack of such from Adullam, "We do not have the moonlight. There's much to do."

The tiny girl's gaze ripped back and forth from Fredricx to Adullam and back again. It was as if her look was a cry for Fredricx to reject Adullam's words and give a more favorable, comforting answer.

Almost, Fredricx fell for it. The twinge in his morality dissolved into realism. She would never be found in this hulking city, and besides, Ettie was his top priority, wife before a random stranger.

With that, he trailed after Adullam, whose patience had already run thin.

The girl had decided it was not the end of the matter. She screamed after them, "Daddy never came back from the hunt, and mum went to find him, but now she's gone, too... I'm all alone... and scared..."

"Should we?" Fredricx asked.

"No. Kosm has already seen the resolution in the matter."

XXXX

Other beasts were downed with relative easy if the difficulty was averaged between Adullam and Fredricx.

Adullam was skilled, slicing clean through bone of beasts humanoid and otherwise. However, this did not stop him from deliberately allowing Fredricx to take the literal and figurative fall over and over.

"It's practice," he charmed.

This so fluidly formed at his lips over and over, which was simple enough when he was barely scathed, and Fredricx was panting, dripping sweat and blood.

As they fought, the beckoning bell rang again and again. The beasts paid no mind at all to its high, flinch worthy frequencies. However, it seemed to get louder as they were getting close to it. This was not the only thing they were getting closer to. The bell ringing was complemented by howling. The screeches were so piercing and lengthy that the owner must have been titanic.

Having come out on a ledge, overlooking one of the Grand Cathedral's entrances on a ceremoniously long bridge, there was the titanicest beast Fredricx had ever seen or even imagined to have seen.

To say it was tall would have been a gross underestimation, but it was tall. Standing bipedal, it rivaled the height of a steamboat and was taller than many of the buildings in Yharnam.

The antlers were as thick as tree trunks, and its external rib cage could probably fit a few devoured Hunters inside. The beast was equipped with one particularly beefy arm with horrendous claws. They would put marks so deep that the little yellow eyed beasts' scratches would feel like it had not broken the skin at all. It was shrouded by dense silver fur that itself could likely take a beating.

When it roared, the beast revealed gushing red teeth with broken sections. It was also littered with cuts on its legs and torso. Where had the lacerations come from?

Two Hunters were wailing on it at ground level. One of them was Gascoigne, who was made obvious by his tattered black coat and wispy scarf, not to mention the hefty ax. The other?

"I will only say this once, Fred," Adullam offered.

Curiously, Fredricx looked at the back of Adullam's hat.

"I was wrong about this particular bell ringer. Shall we join them?"

XXXX

He wanted to mock Adullam, but resolved to gawk at the beast. It was enormous and otherworldly. As if the man sized beasts were not mythical enough, there were ones that were several stories high, and Adullam seemed unfazed.

"We will just need to leave as quickly once the beast has been leveled, but the blood will be hefty," Adullam continued nonchalantly before looking back at him, "You'll be fine as long as you do not catch the stray or purposeful blade of a Hunter."

With no more words, Adullam sprinted toward the ledge and sprung off. While suspended in the air, the blade was unsheathed and drug across the inside of his arm. The sword lit up with the Hunter's blood, whistling as they moved in unison. Skillfully, Adullam landed, but not on the ground. That would have been too simple, and even in the short time that Fredricx had known him, he could tell the Hunter had a flair for the dramatic. In fashion, Adullam landed on the hunched back of the beast, causing it to thrash violently, but not before his blade disappeared into its body and trailed down with him to the cobblestone.

Before Adullam's boots connected with the ground, it attempted a revenge swing. Like a shadow, Adullam sidestepped, avoiding it altogether. Gascoigne took the free moment to connect the ax with one of the creature's grotesque feet if its appendages could be described in such humanoid terms. The other Hunter drew and used several blood vials.

Not feeling as lucky as Adullam, Fredricx lowered himself from the upper to the bridge below. He landed with a clunk.

Cursing himself for still not having a firearm, he swore to himself and to the Queen herself and to any deity itself. No firearm, in combination with the thin whip, Fredricx wondered if he would be any more than an annoyance to the beast or to the other Hunters as they, especially Adullam and Gascoigne, moved with such fluidity.

It roared at the four of them, swiping and knocking Gascoigne to the ground. The beast threatened to squash him, but remaining came to his aid. In an instant, Adullam threw himself over Gascoigne, kneeling over top of his person and bracing his weapon skyward. In true fashion, the foot of the beast came down, spearing and then quickly recoiling itself.

Fredricx and the other Hunter were toward the far side as the beast staggered and landed on its buttocks and elbows. The weapon became a cane, and Fredricx pierced through the thin forearm of the monster. This was not without recoil as it decided to take penitence on him instead of any of the other Hunters. The far arm came up and around. It was an open palm that chased after him, scooping and binding up Fredricx in its fist despite his primary attempt of fleeing and secondary attempt of stabbing.

He had drawn up the cane by its slick middle and was jamming it over and over into the knuckles of the creature. It lifted him from the comfort of the ground, and spittle redrenched his person, soaking his face when it roared at him. These teeth looked even less friendly up close. Surely, it would eat him dead if the squeezing did not do him in first. The tension in his ribcage was unbearable, shifting organs in places they did not belong.

Soon, however, the beast had to select between finishing off Fredricx and defending the rest of itself. He could hear the shouting and weapon wielding below from the Hunters. With a pitchy shriek, its grip loosened, but not before a motion of the elbow sent him hurtling. The cane was lost. The sound of the wind was lost. Finally, the consciousness was lost as Fredricx made heavy contact with a streetpost, practically wrapping himself around it on impact. At least, he had not been thrown off the bridge.

XXXX

"Welcome home, Good Hunter."

His eyes gritted after a partial peek, closed, and then surrendered to the outside world. It was the same house with the same white flowers with the same headstones with the same woman with the same gentle breeze. He forced himself to stand, causing the woman to give a slight curtsy.

"Stay a while, Good Hunter. Rest your sickly bones."

This was no time for rest. Placing hands on his lower back, he gave a stretch and push, sending satisfying pops and cracks up his spine.

"I need to get back." He was not sure on why he insisted on relative politeness to his hallucinations. Obviously, the woman was not real. Her eyes were technical, but at the same time maternal. Not to mention the endless sky over the small iron fences that surrounded the house. It was not real, hallucinations conjured up by a blood confused mind.

Dainty fingers appeared out of her shawl and gave a full handed gesture to the familiar headstone. Fredricxon Vinge. He knew what to do, or it had least worked up to this point. Kneeling beside it, he waited for the nausea to fill him, and it did.

XXXX


End file.
